


wake the morn and greet the dawn (with hearts entwined and free)

by mixedfandomfics



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Ableist Language, Attempted Kidnapping, Eroda (One Direction), Fae & Fairies, Harry is an amputee, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Minor Character Death, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Orphaned Characters, Scottish Folklore & Mythology, Selkie Harry, Selkies, a bunch of cranky old scottish men love harry but louis loves him the most, but absolutely nothing indicates that in the fic, like kind of a lot of it? this fic wound up with kinda angsty vibes, niall is the best friend we all need, they basically all live on eroda and i didn't realize that until like 3 days ago, this takes place like 1920s in my head
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:48:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25954753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mixedfandomfics/pseuds/mixedfandomfics
Summary: It was a great storm that sent Harry ashore. Grandmothers professed they had not seen its like in a generation, and fathers lost their sons to the sea.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 29
Kudos: 151
Collections: 1D Mythical Fic Fest





	wake the morn and greet the dawn (with hearts entwined and free)

**Author's Note:**

> title from The Wild Swans on the Lake by Foy Vance
> 
> I had so much fun with this! Liberties were obviously taken with the prompt, and I wish I had the time to flesh this out more, but you know. Life.
> 
> Prompt: Character A is a known selkie who sets up shop in the local market each week to sell specialty products. They're very good at keeping their pelt hidden away and have yet to be captured in spite of many villagers trying. Character B finds it quite by accident and immediately returns it. Character A should want to run, but they're very taken by Character B.
> 
> Warnings for implied kidnapping/minor past characters being held against their will, attempted kidnapping of a main character, minor character death, brief ableist language, and brief implied homophobia.

It was a great storm that sent Harry ashore. Grandmothers professed they had not seen its like in a generation, and fathers lost their sons to the sea. 

Harry was little more than a pup, just now old enough for his mother to guide him to the sea for fish, when it rose. She shouted for him, tried to guide him back to safety, but the waves crashed and rolled and he lost her. The chaos disoriented him, the tide pushed and pulled him, he tumbled in the waves and was swept farther and farther from his family’s fishing grounds. The sea, in her anger, bashed him into a rocky cliffside before pulling him out again. Slowly, his pain and exhaustion took over, and he let her do as she pleased. After all, the sea was his home, the first Mother, and if she took him, he would let her. 

It was for that reason he was surprised when he blinked awake to a warm morning sun and a cool sea breeze. He did not know how long it had been, or where he was, but he knew it was not home. This beach was sandier than his home, and the air tasted less clean and cold. He attempted to move and every muscle in his body screamed in protest, sore and battered from the storm. The hurt that startled him the most, though, was his flipper. It screamed the loudest, a sharp, hot sting rather than the ache through the rest of him. He turned to look and found it mangled, twisted, broken and bloody. 

_ I can never swim again _ . He thought weakly, grief washing over him.  _ I can never hunt. I will die. Why did Mother Sea let me live, if she only meant for me to die? _

_ You can turn.  _ Another voice within him whispered.  _ Step out of your skin.  _

Harry knew it was true. His mother told him, when he was a young pup, the powers of their folk. How the first humans arose from the sea, but had forgotten where they came from. She told him,  _ if you ever go ashore, you must not let them find your skin, for in their soul they know its magic, even if they have forgotten they once held it too. They will use it to control you, Harry. If they hold your skin, you are their slave _ . 

Harry had known this, and yet had never considered going ashore. The sea was his home. She fed him, and played with him, brought him safety and comfort and peace. Her salt was his blood. 

And now he could not return to her. 

“Da, look!” Someone shouted, startling Harry and causing him to flinch away. “It’s hurt, we should help it.” 

“Niall, it’s as good as dead.” Another voice said. “I’ll tell Angus to come down, put it out of its misery. He could make good use of it.”

“No!” The first voice wailed. “You can’t kill it! It’s just a pup.” 

“It’s a mercy, Niall. One day, you’re going to have to come to terms with this. It’s a circle of life, my son. We must eat to live, we must use the fat to burn for light.”

“It’s just a pup.” Niall repeated sadly, quieter. 

“I know, son. Come on, let’s go. We need to get these back to the village, the market opens soon.” The man spoke with some finality, starting back up the trail. 

“Yes sir.” Niall whispered, bending to pick up his baskets. He glanced back at the seal pup again, biting his lip and carefully tossing three of the fish down to where he was stuck on the beach. “I’m sorry.” He whispered quietly, jogging after his father with one last glance over his shoulder. 

Harry ate the fish gratefully, despite the jack-rabbiting in his chest from the fear of being caught by humans. 

_ I must do it now or never _ . He thought quietly.  _ And I must hope they do not find me. _

He took a steadying breath and began to shed his skin, unfolding pale, gangly limbs as he collapsed onto the sand. Every part of him screamed in protest, and he found that as he had been in his seal form, so he was as a human. His left arm hung mangled and useless at his side, dark bruises bloomed across his chest and ribs. Scrapes appeared on his arms and legs, and he felt the slight tingle of a few drops of blood sliding across his temple. He tried to catch his breath, whimpering to himself, before he took hold of his beautiful pelt. Tears bloomed in his eyes from grief and from pain, and he carefully tucked it into some crags in the rock, trying desperately to hide it from view. 

_ They must never find it. _ He thought, filling in with smaller pebbles to disguise the crag, before collapsing out of pain and exhaustion. The world went dark again, and he made no attempt to fight it. 

It was a slow day at the market. People were still rebuilding boats, reshingling roofs, and desperately hoping that lost husbands and sons would come stumbling through the front door, and so Niall’s father let him leave early. 

Instead of going home, Niall snuck two more fish from his father’s catch and headed back to the beach. Angus had yet to stop by today, so Niall’s father hadn’t sent the man down to take care of the seal pup. Niall desperately hoped that he could help save the animal, bandage it and set it back out to sea, maybe, but when he rounded the corner to where the pup had been, he found a sleeping boy in its place. Fish forgotten, he gasped and ran to the boy, gently shaking him awake. 

“Are you alive?” He asked, relief washing over him as the boy gasped awake before crying out in pain. 

“I’m sorry!” Niall winced, taking the boy’s good hand and squeezing it once, hoping that was comforting and not painful. “I’ll be right back, I’ll get help!”

He sprinted up to the town, leaving Harry to curl in on himself, whimpering in pain and shivering at the cold sea air on his flimsy human skin. 

“Da! Da!” Niall shouted as he ran down the street, attracting the attention of the rest of the town. “Da! A boy washed up on shore, he’s hurt bad!”

“What?” Michael demanded, standing up from behind the stand where he was selling fish. 

“Help!” Niall insisted, out of breath as he skidded to a half in front of his father. “A boy! A boy washed up on the beach, and he’s hurt!”

“Run for the doctor, Niall.” Michael sent his son sprinting further into town and waved a few of the others to follow him as he hurried down to the beach. 

He found the boy near where the seal pup had been earlier, but the coincidence escaped him as he knelt to pick up the gangly child. He was as naked as the day he was born, scrapes and bruises littering his body.

“Shh, lad, I’ve got ye’.” Michael soothed as Harry cried out in pain, turning and staggering back up the steep beach trail, brittle sea grass brushing against his legs. “I’ve got ye. What’s your name, lad?”

Harry just whimpered, shivering, as one of the townspeople that had followed Michael shucked off his coat and draped it over the lad.

“Bring him to mine, Michael, it’s closest.” Seamus spoke gruffly. He was old, made to look older by years at sea, but still strong as a bull and sharp as a whip. “O’Neil, go meet Niall and the doctor. Tell them where we are.” 

“Yessir.” The young man jogged off in that direction as Michael carried the boy through the front door of Seamus’ cottage. His wife, Aoife, gasped as they arrived. Michael felt a surge of grief for the woman, knowing they had lost their grandson Samuel to the same storm. She must have thought it was him, for a moment. 

“Here, here. On the bed.” She said briskly, ushering them into a small bedroom. “The doctor has been called?”

“Yes’m.” Michael grunted, putting Harry down as gently as possible. “Niall went to fetch him.”

“Good. That arm needs tended.” She hissed sympathetically, discarding the fishy smelling coat that was covering the boy and replacing it with a warm blanket. She went to put the kettle on, knowing full well they would all need some tea at the very least, and boiling water for his wounds to boot. 

“Lad, can ye’ hear me?” Michael asked gently, kneeling by the bed and taking Harry’s unhurt hand. “What’s your name?”

Harry met his eyes, some tiny sense of hope blooming in him as the bright blue eyes staring back at him held no malice. They were pure, and kind. Like the boy that found him.

“Hh-” He tried to speak, but this new tongue tripped him up, his throat raspy from salt water and lack of use. 

“Ssh, don’ strain yourself.” Michael murmured, smiling reassuringly at the boy. “We’ll get ye’ all mended, the doctor’s comin’.”

As if on cue, Niall, young O’Neil, and the doctor burst through the door, a few nosy townsfolk all peering over their shoulders. 

“If you’ve got nothing useful to be doing, get out!” Seamus ordered, sending most of them scattering. “You too, O’Neil, thank you. I know your father hasn’t got that roof fixed yet, you’re more use to him. Out.” 

It was just the doctor, Michael, Seamus and Aoife then, Niall quiet as a mouse in the corner, watching with wide eyes. His cheeks were flushed from running, but he caught his breath quick enough- he didn’t want to be sent out too. 

“That hand needs to go.” The doctor said gravely. “It’s been a day, at least, probably more. It’ll rot if we don’t take it. Do we know where he came from?”

Aoife pinched her lips together grimly. “I don’t recognize him. Could be from another bloody island, with the way that storm blew. We can care for him, Seamus and I. ‘Til we find where he’s come from.”

Seamus nodded gruffly, though it wasn’t as if Aoife had posed it as a question. He could only hope someone would do the same for his Samuel. 

  
  


“Niall, you should go.” Michael ordered softly. “You’ll not want to see this.” He said grimly as the doctor produced a saw. 

Niall did as he was bid, leaving out the front door but wishing desperately that he could comfort the boy. He felt responsible, in a way. He needed to take care of the boy. 

  
  


Harry didn’t wake for two days, after that. Aoife trickled broth between his lips and changed his bandages, wincing to herself each time the angry red stump just below his elbow was revealed. But his breathing was steady, his color slowly returned, and no fever took him. His cuts scabbed and his bruises yellowed, and on the third day, he blinked awake wide, dark eyes. 

“Good morning, little lad.” Aoife spoke gently, pushing a brown curl off his forehead. She startled, slightly, at how black his eyes were, but he blinked and they turned a mossy green. She shook it off as a trick of the light. “My name is Aoife, you’re in my house. You washed up on the beach three days ago. You’re in Portree, lad. What’s your name?”

Harry swallowed and blinked up at the woman, looking around the room. “Hh-” he tried again, grunting in frustration. “Ha-”

“Hamish?” Aoife prompted. “Hagan?” 

Harry coughed and shook his head. “Ha.. Ha.”

“Harry?” She tried, and Harry nodded in relief. 

“Harry.” She hummed to herself. “You’re safe here, Harry. We’ll get you all mended, hmm?”

He offered a small smile, stretching out slightly and feeling the soreness in his muscles seem to fade. Remembering his mangled left hand, he lifted it and blanched when he saw the stark white bandage. 

“The doctor had to amputate it, Harry.” Aoife informed gently. “Below your elbow. It was never going to heal, lad, I’m sorry.”   
  


_ Thirteen Years Later _

  
  


“The sea took one son from me and gave me another.” Aoife always used to say when Harry would ask about Samuel. Samuel had been her grandson, of course, but she had raised him from just a toddler, when her daughter had died on the birthing bed with another boy. Her son-in-law had fucked off to London and hadn’t been heard from again, and so Samuel was theirs. 

And so, when Harry could not tell them where he came from or if he had family, he stayed with Aoife and Seamus. He healed quickly, was up and walking within a week of washing up on shore, and his bandages were removed by the end of the month. 

“Better than I could have hoped.” The doctor had declared as he removed the stitches from where Harry’s hand would have been, the skin nearly completely healed. “You’ll get used to not having it, lad. ‘Least it was the left one.” He hummed, packing up his kit and leaving with a tip of the hat to Aoife. 

  
  


Now, that same doctor was holding his hat over his heart as he stepped out of the room to meet Harry’s eyes. He was twenty-two now, or at least that was everyone’s best guess. In any case, Niall was twenty-two now, and the town reckoned Niall was the closest to his age, and so Harry was twenty-two also. They made his birthday the cold February day that brought him ashore, and Aoife made him a cake every time the day arrived. 

“I’m sorry, lad.” The doctor spoke, shaking his head. “She’s gone.” 

Harry managed to keep from crumpling the way he had when they lost Seamus six months earlier. “Why?” He asked horsley, tears flooding his eyes. He didn’t let them spill, refused to, not yet.

The doctor shook his head. “I couldn’t guess.” He confessed gently. “She was in good health. So soon after Seamus, all I can say is a broken heart.” 

Harry swallowed thickly. “Thanks, doc.” He whispered, scrubbing his hand over his face. The doctor nodded, letting the door close behind him with a quiet click. 

Harry sniffed and took a steadying breath. It was barely 8 in the morning. The town was still sleepy, though the fishermen and bakers had been at their posts for hours. He had simply gone to check on Aoife when she didn’t come out for breakfast, and found her still in bed, having passed peacefully in the night. 

“Love you, gran.” He whispered, bending to kiss her forehead before gently tucking the blankets over her, unable to bear looking at her any longer. 

He let himself have a moment, a few more tears falling, before he cleared his throat and quietly slipped out the front door to find Niall. 

The boy was on the pier, helping Michael unload baskets of fish as a cool breeze nipped in off the sea. It grounded Harry, somewhat, in the way that the sea always did. She was still home. 

“Mornin’, Harry!” Niall said cheerfully, though his face got a bit serious when Harry’s face wasn’t wearing it’s usual sunny smile. “What’s goin’ on?”

Harry cleared his throat. “I um.” Tears flooded his eyes. “Was wondering if you could help me dig a plot, tonight. Beside Seamus. Aoife passed.” He managed to get out before his voice broke. 

Michael and Niall stepped out onto the pier and wrapped Harry in a bone crushing hug. “O’course, lad.” Michael murmured, clapping Harry on the shoulder. “She was one of a kind, our Aoife.”

Harry nodded and blinked away the rest of his tears, offering a watery smile. “She was.” He said thickly, coughing to clear his throat. “The kindest.” 

“Help us bring this in, hey?” Michael prompted, nodding towards the boat. Some might think it insensitive, but Harry found himself grateful for the distraction, grateful to have something to do besides sit in the house with Aoife’s ghost. 

Niall handed Harry a basket, balancing it for him while Harry braced it on his hip with his good arm. “Got it?” He confirmed, and Harry nodded, following the men up the beach to town as they carried the day’s catch in to sell. 

Harry wound up spending the day with Niall at their stand. Normally he would help in the bakery, or help Aoife sell her herbs or knitting, but he couldn’t bear to do anything but sit and let Niall’s voice fill the air as he bartered and sold the fish for his father. 

“Lunch is on me, come on, lad.” Niall said brusquely, standing up and guiding Harry to the inn around noon. Michael waved them off when they asked if he needed anything, and so they left the stand in his capable hands. 

Harry and Niall settled in a quiet, dark corner of the inn rather with a pint each and a steaming bowl of stew. 

“What’ll you do?” Niall finally prompted after a long, but comfortable silence. “Now as she’s… gone.”

Harry chewed slowly, swallowing the tough meat and letting the salt bloom over his tongue. 

“They left me the house.” He said quietly. “She told me, after Seamus passed. They only had the two daughters, the elder lives in Edinburgh with her husband and wants nought to do with it, I’ve only met her twice. I suppose I ought to write her.” He sighed heavily. “And Samuel’s mother passed, so.” He rubbed his eyes. “So the house is mine, empty as it is. Suppose I just. Keep selling bits and bobs, helping where I can. This is home.”

Niall reached out to squeeze Harry’s wrist, smiling sympathetically. “Aye. Home it is. You’re my brother, Harry. You know I’ll help ya with whatever you need.”

Harry nodded. “Thank you, Niall.” He said genuinely. 

When Harry had come of the age to leave school, it became clear there were few jobs for men in the village that could be completed with one hand. Fishing was the main profession people could hope to hold, or farming. There was the butcher, and the doctor, and the barkeep of course, but it was hardly a town big enough for more than one of any of those. And so Harry did odd jobs, mostly tending shops and babysitting and even helped old man Finnegan with his sheep, one summer, but mostly he helped Aoife. 

She had been something of the village hedge witch, though none would utter the word where she could hear. There was the doctor, to be sure, and most called him nowadays. But Aoife had birthed most of the children in the town (“And you best not forget it, Niall Horan,” she would scold when the boy stepped in her garden,) had provided countless remedies for headache and morning sickness and other small ailments. She taught Harry most of what she knew, and made him promise to keep it a secret. He sold them in town, most days, especially the last six months when she didn’t want to get out of bed some days. The doctor was probably right- the one thing Aoife couldn’t cure was a broken heart. 

“Harry, are you listening?” Niall prompted gently, startling Harry out of his thoughts. 

“Sorry. Sorry.” Harry shook his head. “I was thinking. What did you say?”

“I was just saying, you know you needn’t want for anything. Da and I will look after ya, and the rest of the town would too, I reckon, if it takes you awhile to get on your feet. The whole lot of us adopted you, really, the day Aoife took you in.”

Harry nodded and swallowed thickly, touched by the sentiment. “Thank you.” He whispered again. “Means a lot.”

  
  


They buried Aoife next to Seamus that evening, with much of the town gathering to say a few quiet words over her. 

_ “Don’t you dare have a blasted wake for me,” Aoife had shaken her finger at Seamus, one day. “I’ll not have the whole town looking at my dead body.” _

“I don’t remember much of where I came from.” Harry finally spoke, picking at a thread on his coat. “I only remember the day I woke up, and there was this little lady with steely hair and steely eyes looking at me, and she promised me I would be looked after. ‘You’re safe here,’ she said. And from then on, she was my gran. She was the kindest, toughest old goat you could find. I loved her like blood, and she loved me the same.” His throat closed, and he cleared it, managing to hold back tears. “The sea took one son from me, and gave me another.” He quoted quietly. “And I guess it was the same for me. Go in peace, gran.” A tear finally spilled, and he bent to take a fistfull of earth and gently covered her, the rest of the townspeople doing the same. The crowd gradually dispersed, but Harry, Michael, and Niall stayed to make sure the grave was filled in. 

“She’s with the old man, now.” Michael said softly. “Come on, lad. We’ll drink to the happy couple.” 

Harry blew a humorless laugh out his nose, following the pair to the pub. He didn’t particularly want to go, but he didn’t particularly want to be alone in an empty house, either. 

The mood in the room was somber enough. Harry was handed a pint nearly as soon as he walked in the door, and a quiet, “To Aoife,” echoed through the room before they all turned back to their quiet conversation. Hands clapped Harry on the shoulder as he followed Niall and Michael to an empty table, and he nodded his thanks to the familiar faces before settling in a seat facing the door. He stared into his pint and traced the grain of the worn wooden table, chewing at his bottom lip. 

“Harry, lad, I’m sorry for your loss.” Liam, the local blacksmith, walked up to the table and squeezed Harry’s shoulder. “Let me know if you need anything, yeah?”

“Thanks, Liam.” Harry met the man’s warm brown eyes and offered a soft smile, raising his untouched pint in thanks. Outside Niall, Liam was probably the boy Harry had been closest with in school. “I appreciate it.”

The doors opened to the pub again, and Harry’s eyes flicked up at the movement. He didn’t recognize the man standing there, damp with rain and clearly uneasy. 

“Louis,” Liam spoke in surprise, and the man seemed to relax when his eyes fell on Liam. Harry glanced up, brow furrowed, wondering how Liam knew the man. He was weaving through the crowds now, muttering apologies and shaking the rain off his face. 

“Didn’t think you’d be here for days.” Liam spoke softly, embracing the man. “Good to see you, cousin.” 

“Took an earlier train. Had to get out.” Louis cleared his throat nervously. “Thank you, again, for putting me up.” He glanced around. “Quiet, hey?”

“Yeah, it’s ehm. Bit of a mourning. Aoife Dunnegal passed this morning, she was kind of the town gran. This is my mate, Harry, and Niall, and Niall’s father Michael. Aoife raised Harry, here. Lads, this is my cousin, Louis. He’ll be staying with me a while. From London.” Liam introduced. 

Louis nodded stiffly to each of them, lingering on Harry last. “I’m sorry for your loss.” He spoke softly, eyes flicking briefly to the stump of Harry’s left forearm as he extended his hand to shake. 

“Thanks,” Harry said shortly, tired of hearing people’s apologies, but somehow captivated by the stranger. There was a quality about him that he couldn’t quite put a finger on. Something in him that felt the same as the sea did, like salt air and untamed freedom. He extended his right hand a beat too late. “Welcome to Portree.” 

“Cheers,” Louis nodded quietly, exhaustion hanging around him like a cloud. 

“C’mon, I’ll take you to the house.” Liam offered softly. “You must be knackered. I’m sorry again, Harry. And I mean it, yeah? Come to me for anything.” He told the man firmly. 

“Thanks, Liam.” Harry nodded, fiddling with his pint glass. “Nice to meet you, Louis.” 

The two men waved and stepped back into the rainy night. 

“I think I’m gonna head out too,” Harry said after a few moments, smiling sadly at Niall and Michael. “Thank you lads, again.”

“Of course, Harry. We’ll see you tomorrow, hey? No going off and hiding, now.” Niall raised one eyebrow in challenge. 

“Course, yeah.” Harry agreed. “See you tomorrow.” He confirmed, standing and weaving through the small crowd in the pub, nodding his thanks to everyone that patted him on the shoulder or murmured their condolences. 

He breathed in a huge lungful of cold air as he stepped out of the building, relieved to finally have a moment to himself. He smashed his hat further on his head and flipped up the collar on his coat, trudging down the street to his house. 

Harry paused, hesitating on the porch when he found the door slightly ajar. His heart dropped to his stomach, knowing he had left it firmly shut when he left for the funeral. 

“Hello?” He called into the house, gritting his jaw. He stepped into the dark house and reached for Seamus’ old walking stick, still at its place by the door. He heard a crash and saw a dark figure racing out the back door, running out onto the beach, leaving the light blue door swinging on its frame.

“No,” Harry breathed, dashing up the stairs to his bedroom, finding it overturned and rifled through. Tears pricking his eyes again, he quickly moved the rug under his desk chair out of the way, prying up the old floorboard and sighing in relief when he found his pelt. He pulled it out of its hiding place and hugged it close, clinging to it and letting out a ragged sob. It felt like home, the way it always did when he held it, like the sea. 

“Who?” He breathed out weakly, resting back against the wall of his bedroom and rubbing his eyes. “Today, of all days.” He sniffed, before taking a deep breath and going back downstairs to shut the doors, locking them both and barring them. In a town this small, he rarely bothered to lock them- Aoife had an open door policy. 

Harry’s secret was among the worst kept in the town. Aoife knew, and Seamus, and Niall. Whispers followed him, but he didn’t think many people believed it; most people viewed it as a harmless folk tale about the odd orphaned boy that washed ashore one day. Rarely did people actually attempt to find his pelt. 

Today, of all days.

He sighed heavily and toed off his shoes, hung his coat up by the door, replaced Seamus’ walking stick, and stoked a fire to life in the hearth. He curled up in an old armchair and stared into the flames, pelt still hugged tightly to his chest. 

_ “I need to go to the beach,” Harry told Aoife hesitantly, three days after he woke up. “I need to see where I washed ashore.” _

_ Aoife had hesitated, but something in her relented when she saw the desperation in the boy’s mossy eyes. Every now and then, in the right light, they flashed black, dark like an animal’s.  _

_ “Ok, lad.” She consented. “You’re sure you feel strong enough?”  _

_ “Yes, ma’am.” Harry nodded, and so the woman nodded and bundled him up against the sea air, reaching for her own coat. Harry opened his mouth to protest, but something in the woman’s steel eyes quieted him.  _

_ They stepped out the back door, the cottage practically right on the beach. The salty air washed over Harry and he took a deep breath, standing still for several moments and letting it invigorate him, rekindle the life in his blood. He had been inside, away from the sun and the sea, for close to a week now.  _

_ Aoife watched him curiously but didn’t press him, letting the curious lad take his time. He opened his eyes and again she saw the flash of black before they were replaced by the earthy green.  _

_ “Niall found you in that rocky area, down there.” She indicated quietly, watching him take hesitant steps out onto the sand, picking his way through the stiff sea grass to the rocks. She followed a few steps behind, watching as his gait grew stronger, his balance better.  _

_ “Can you turn around?” Harry requested quietly, as they reached the rocks. Aoife cocked an eyebrow but complied, stifling a laugh at the seriousness of the quiet boy. She heard a shifting of rocks and nearly turned around, heard little pebbles and sand bounce off the ground, before Harry appeared back in front of her, something stuffed under his coat. She pretended not to notice, to let the child think he had been inconspicuous.  _

_ She knew, somehow, that he came from the sea. The way he looked at it like it was someone he lost, like he belonged there. She frequently caught him staring out the window at it, and the sleek brown peeking out from under his coat somehow answered all of her questions.  _

_ Harry went to rest when they reached the house, and Aoife went to the little attic above her room. It took her a few moments, but she found what she was looking for: an old chest, the heavy sort with a lock built in. She hauled it out of the attic with the strength of a fisherman’s wife.  _

_ Carefully, she carried it to Harry’s room. Peeking in the doorway, she found his eyes squeezed too tightly shut to truly be asleep.  _

_ “Important things should be kept in safe places.” She said quietly, setting the chest in the corner by the bed.  _

_ Harry sat up hesitantly, and Aoife managed to keep a smile from her lips when she saw the same sleek bundle poking out from under his pillow.  _

_ “Here,” she said quietly, unlocking the chest. “You can hide it in here, and keep the key with you.” She offered, holding it out for him. “Keep it safe.” _

_ Tears flooded Harry’s eyes. “You aren’t going to take it?” He whispered, still curled near the pillow, guarding it.  _

_ “No, lad.” She smiled gently, reaching to tuck a stray curl behind his ear. “That’s yours. I wouldn’t take that from you.”  _

_ Harry swallowed thickly, heart jack-rabbiting inside his chest as he pulled the beautiful seal pelt from under his pillow, still watching Aoife with eyes full of fear. She didn’t react, knowing that the skittish boy would bolt if he thought for a second he was in danger. There was something wild about him yet.  _

_ “You’re safe here, Harry.” She vowed. “Me and Seamus, we’ll never take that from you. That’s your’s, ok? We will protect you. Ok?” _

_ Harry nodded hesitantly, taking a staggering breath before throwing his arms around Aoife’s neck and hugging her tightly, hot tears running down his cheeks and soaking her blouse. _

_ “Oh, lad,” She cooed, pulling him into her lap and rocking him slightly, not bothered with the fact he was nearly as tall as her, a gangly pre-teen. “I know. I know.” _

_ “I didn’t mean to get separated.” He whimpered, the realization that he would never see his family again washing over him. “It was the storm.” _

_ “I know.” Aoife soothed, rubbing his back. “You did your best. You’re alive, you’re safe.” _

_ “I never wanted to leave.” He sobbed, limp in her arms. “I wanted to stay. I wanted my mother. But I couldn’t swim. My hand, it’s gone, I can’t…”  _

_ “Breathe, lad.” Aoife reminded quietly. “You’re still of the sea, my darling, even if you can’t swim. I promise. The sea is the mother, she gives us all life. You still belong to her.” _

_ Something about that made Harry stop, made him catch his breath, made his sobs shudder to a stop. “She’s the mother.” He agreed quietly, swallowing the rest of his tears.  _

_ “My grandmother used to tell me stories of the seal folk.” Aoife whispered quietly, still rocking Harry. “She said that they were the first people, that we all come from the sea. We simply forgot how to change our skin.” _

_ “My mother told me the same thing.” Harry hiccuped. “She said that something in them still remembers, that’s why they try to steal our pelts.”  _

_ “She sounds like a wise woman.” Aoife smiled, rubbing the boy’s back until his breathing fully evened out, eyes heavy with exhaustion. She held him as he fell asleep, his shiny pelt still held between them.  _

_ Seamus came in for lunch, some time later, and raised a curious eyebrow at the sight, eyes landing on the pelt. They flicked back up to meet his wife’s and she simply nodded solemnly, fingers gently carding through the boy’s curls.  _

_ “He’s just a pup.” She whispered, heart breaking a little. “Scared to death. He knows he can’t go back.” _

_  
_ _ Seamus just cleared his throat gruffly. “Well. Seems as he’s staying here, then. We can only hope they care for our Samuel in return.”  _

_ Aoife felt a single tear slip down her own cheek. “Aye.” She confirmed, pressing a kiss to the boy’s wild curls. “Help me get him to bed?”  _

_ Seamus nodded and gently lifted the boy back into bed, tucking him in. They left the pelt beside him for now, as it seemed to bring him comfort. They were both home, afterall. It was safe.  _

Harry blinked, his eyes dry. He wasn’t sure how long he had stared into the fire, wasn’t sure what time it was. Late, he knew, from the way the embers were starting to burn low. 

Somehow, he couldn’t bring himself to move to bed. He added another log to the fire and curled back up on the armchair, sighing heavily as he reminisced over the last decade and change he spent on land. 

He didn’t ever really fall asleep. The dawn sun was peeking through his curtains by the time he realized he had stayed awake all night, and he figured it was too late to try and sleep now. Instead he bundled back into his coat, tucking his pelt into it and doing a fair bit better job at hiding it than he did as a child. He hesitantly opened the back door, locking it behind him and wandering down to the sea. 

Harry stood there, foam lapping around his ankles, icy pin pricks shooting up his legs from the temperature and clouds appearing around his face with every exhale. The sun was peering weakly through the gray clouds, not yet strong enough to bring any warmth.

“Harry?” Niall spoke, holding empty baskets as he walked down the beach towards his small fishing boat. “Are you ok?”

“Someone broke in last night.” Harry replied after a moment. “When I got in from the pub.”

“Fuckers,” Niall swore, going red with anger. “Did they…?” He trailed off, waiting with bated breath. 

“No. They didn’t find it.” Harry promised, feeling Niall’s anxiety melt off of him. “Just don’t feel safe leaving it in the house, anymore. Need to find somewhere new.”

“Good.” Niall nodded. “We’ll think of something. D’you wanna come out on the boat?” He offered after a pause, worried at Harry’s somber attitude. 

“Yeah.” Harry nodded, taking a deep breath. “Yeah. That sounds good.”

“Good lad. Be my good luck charm.” Niall clapped him on the shoulder, guiding him gently to the pier. “You’re gonna be ok, H. I promise.”

“Yeah. I will.” Harry nodded. “Just needed a night to wallow, or something. I’ll be ok.” 

“Of course,” Niall nodded. “We’ll just spend the morning on the boat, get you on the sea. That’ll cheer ya up.”

Harry forced a smile, hoping it was convincing enough. It did sound good, he was just exhausted and anxious and sad. Niall was right, though, a day on the water would fix him up. He stepped onto the little fishing boat, feeling the way the waves bounced beneath him, and took a seat among the empty baskets while Niall unfurled the sails and guided them with practiced ease towards the open sea. 

“Who do you think tried to take it?” Niall asked after a long silence, nodding towards the pelt that Harry pulled from his coat and laid out beside him. 

“Dunno. Was so dark, could have been anyone.” Harry said honestly, dipping his fingers in the water and sighing happily as the icy liquid washed over him. 

“Bastard,” Niall muttered, casting out his net. “Can’t think of anyone in town who’d do that. It’s not like the rest of us wouldn’t be suspicious if suddenly you were followin’ ‘em around like some pup. Not like we wouldn’t ask questions.”

Harry hummed his agreement, though the words soothed him more than he let on. While plenty of people were suspicious of him, whether because of his origins or his association with Aoife, it was comforting to be reminded that he had a fair few friends looking after him. 

“What would happen if you… If you got rid of it?” Niall asked curiously. “Tossed it into the sea, like. No one could find it, then.” 

Harry considered the words, still skimming his fingers through the water. “I don’t think it would work. It feels… wrong. Bad.” He said. “I think it would break me. If my pelt is stolen, I can only get it back if it is willfully returned. I think if I willfully gave it to the sea… “ He shook his head rapidly, nausea turning in his stomach at the thought. “No. I think I would wake up one night trying to walk into the sea to find it.”

“Not that, then.” Niall said firmly. “Never mind. We’ll find a new, safe place at home. Help me bring the net in?” 

Harry complied, using his good hand to help drag the nets in, reasonably full of shimmering silver fish. He steadied the basket with his right arm as Niall emptied them, casting them out twice more before deciding it was plenty for the morning and turning them back towards home. 

Harry tucked his pelt back into his coat and let Niall help him prop one of the baskets on his hip while his friend carried the others up to town. Feeling more settled, more at home in his skin, Harry left Niall at the stand and went back to the house to collect his own wares. It had been a week or so since he had set up shop in the market last, so he was long overdue. He changed out of yesterday’s dirty clothes, splashed some water on his face, and tucked his pelt in the bottom of his basket as he loaded it with teas, medicines, and tiny wooden charms, all nestled in a few of Aoife’s knit blankets. It was less than he usually brought; he would need to get a start on making more shortly. 

“Atta boy!” Niall said brightly as Harry walked into town, wrapping up several fish for an older woman and passing them off to her. “Been meanin’ to ask you for some more of that balm for my knee, kept forgetting.” 

“I think I’ve got a jar or two left,” Harry smiled, setting the basket in the little stand Niall and Michael had built for him after the one Seamus had first built Aoife was battered in a storm. He fished around in the basket and found one of the small jars, passing it over to Niall before setting out the rest of his wares. Niall tried to pass over payment, stubborn as ever, but Harry shot him a withering look and shook his head. 

“No, Niall.” He said firmly, smiled and returning the greeting that the baker's daughter called out as she walked through town. 

“Stubborn bastard.” Niall muttered, though they both knew Niall would slip Harry money or dinner somehow or another. Things always evened out between them.

“Oh, thank God.” Liam breathed, appearing in the market, his unfamiliar cousin in tow. “Harry,I hoped you’d be here. Erm… “ He glanced around hesitantly. “Adaira is pregnant.” He intoned quietly. “Not… we aren’t really telling people, but she’s been bad sick these last few days. Have you got anything that might help?” 

Harry’s face lit up. “Congratulations, Liam.” He smiled softly. The news, coupled with a rare sunny day and his time out with Niall, was bringing his mood back up to its regular cheerful level. “Aye, let me check, I think I’ve got some things that could help.”

“Oh, thank god.” Liam breathed. “It’s been awful, I feel terrible for her. You met Louis, right?”

Harry and Niall both nodded. “Cousin from London, right?” Niall said cheerfully, packing up Liam’s daily order of fish while Harry rummaged around in his basket. 

Louis offered a hesitant smile, dark circles to rival Harry’s carved deep beneath his eyes. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days. There was something skittish about him, eyes constantly flicking about. 

“Aha!” Harry produced a jar, brandishing it from the depths of his basket. He needed a better system. “Brew a spoonful of this for her, morning and night. It will help with the nausea. And here’s a balm, to rub her ankles or her belly. I’m sure she’ll need it soon.” He offered Liam both, accepting coin only for the tea. “The other is on the house,” He winked. “Congratulations, Liam, really. Need anything else?” 

Liam shook his head, clutching the jars gratefully. “No, thank you Harry. Really.” He smiled genuinely. “I appreciate it.”

“Of course.” Harry said kindly, waving Liam and Louis off as the pair headed back for the far end of the street where Liam’s little house was. 

“Odd fella, his cousin.” Niall commented mildly, watching them go. 

“Mm.” Harry hummed in agreement. “Jumpy. Wonder why he’s here.” 

“No clue. Not much here, compared to London.” Niall shrugged. 

They spent the rest of the early afternoon there in the market, bartering and selling and chatting amicably with the other villagers. Harry occasionally felt a wave of sadness wash over him when he remembered Aoife wouldn’t be greeting him with dinner and scolding him for tracking dirt in when he headed home, but over all he felt more at peace, happy even. 

“I had best get on,” Harry mused as the sun started heading towards the horizon, standing and bracing his basket on his hip again, significantly lighter than when he had arrived. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Niall.” 

“You’re sure you don’t want to come for dinner? Ma won’t mind,” Niall offered again.

“Nah, ‘s ok. Thank you. Another time,” Harry offered Niall a reassuring smile, and the boy relented. 

“Alright,” Niall allowed, packing up his baskets and bundling up the last few fish he hadn’t sold for his own supper. “I’ll see you tomorrow, H.”

“Tomorrow,” Harry agreed, moseying down the street towards the edge of town. He hesitated uneasily as he walked up the stairs of the porch, finding one of the windows open where he didn’t remember having left it that way. He took a deep breath and made a show of unlocking the door, reaching for Seamus’ walking stick again. He didn’t set down the basket, pelt still tucked at the bottom of it, and crept through the lower level of the house. He checked every room before proceeding cautiously up the stairs and starting to look through the bedrooms there. His things looked rifled through again, but he couldn’t really tell as he hadn’t gotten around to cleaning up from the intrusion again last night. He took a deep breath and set to straightening up the room, hand shaking slightly with nerves. This settled it- tomorrow he would need to find a new place for the pelt. 

“Talk to the constable,” Niall suggested the next morning when Harry relayed the suspicion that someone had tried to break in again yesterday.

“No,” Harry shook his head. “Nothing’s missing, there’s no proof. What do you want me to say, ‘Hey, Constable, some shadowy figure broke into my house looking for my seal pelt to enslave me as their husband, by the way I’m a selkie?” He scoffed. “No. I locked all of the doors and windows before I left, I’ll know for sure if they try again. I’m just going to have to hide it somewhere else.” He shrugged. 

Niall grumbled to himself, knowing Harry was right. “Fine. Let me know if you need help,” He offered.

Harry nodded his thanks. “I think I’ll head towards the meadows, try to gather some things to replenish Aoife’s stores. Be back this afternoon.” 

“Take Niall with you,” Michael spoke, walking up behind them. “I can handle things today.” 

“Are you sure?” Harry hesitated, looking between his friend and the older man. 

“Aye, both of you. Be gone. Sun’s out for once, you lads go.”

“Yessir,” Harry grinned. He and Niall made quick work of packing up a picnic lunch, a few empty bags, and a couple tools before setting out on foot. It was late summer, almost autumn, though it couldn’t be said that they got much of an autumn to speak of. It was more of a “rainy all year” place, with a slightly warmer, less rainy summer and a much colder, much rainier rest of the year. Nonetheless, it was a rare sunny day, and they intended to enjoy it.

The boys made it to the clearing above town about an hour later, and Harry directed Niall on which plants to gather. They quickly filled the bags with herbs, flowers, and berries, their satchels bulging. 

“Have you got the spade?” Harry verified, biting his lip and glancing over his shoulder at Niall. 

His friend nodded and brandished the small shovel they had brought for unearthing roots. 

“I want to try burying it.” Harry said softly, gesturing towards the satchel that held his pelt and leading the way a bit into the woods and finding an old oak tree that was recognizable enough. 

“You’re sure?” Niall asked hesitantly. “It won’t… I dunno. Make you go mad?”

“I dunno.” Harry confessed. “But I want to try. It doesn’t feel safe with it at the house.”

Niall sighed. “Ok.” He agreed, plunging the spade into the mossy earth. They dug a hole quickly, small but deep, and Harry tucked the satchel with his pelt into the hole before they began filling it in. Immediately Harry felt claustrophobic, almost like he couldn’t breathe, but he pushed the feeling aside. He had to try something other than hiding it in the house. 

“Ready to head back, lad?” Niall asked, tamping down the dirt and straightening up. 

“Yeah,” Harry nodded, feeling slightly nauseous but pushing it aside. He slung what bags he could over his shoulder while Niall grabbed the rest, and they began making their way back to town. 

“You’re sure you’re alright mate?” Niall asked for the umpteenth time as they tied the herbs in neat bundles and hung them up to dry. Harry’s hand shook, and he struggled with the knots he usually managed by himself. 

“Yeah, yeah. I’m ok.” Harry insisted, taking a steadying breath and nodding, smiling at Niall. “Thank you for all your help today.” 

“Course. Let me know if you need anything, hmm?” Niall urged, squeezing Harry’s shoulder as he headed for the door. “We can go dig it up tomorrow if you aren’t feeling better about it.”

“Thanks, Ni. I’m sure it will just take some getting used to. I’ll sleep it off.” Harry said cheerily, though his stomach was still churning. He locked the door after Niall and finished setting up all the plants they collected, keeping his mind occupied until the sun was low in the sky. He didn’t want to eat, but forced himself to make a calming tea and drink it before putting himself to bed. 

Harry tossed and turned for what felt like hours before he finally drifted into a fitful sleep, feeling like he was missing another limb. 

At some point in the night, Harry woke to find himself in the middle of the forest, shivering against the cold and covered in small scrapes and bruises, scraping at the earth with his hand. 

It took him a moment, disoriented, to figure out where he was and what had happened. He must have been in some kind of trance. Was he sleepwalking? Either way it was the middle of the night, he was far from home, sore, and covered in dirt.

“Oh, god.” He breathed, shuddering again. How long had he been out here? This looked like the oak he and Niall had buried his pelt at earlier in the day, but he couldn’t really tell in the dark. Trusting his instincts, he kept digging at the spot he had woken up at, the hole already half uncovered. It was only a few minutes later, the soil still soft, that he unearthed his satchel. He immediately pulled out the pelt and held it close, ignoring the way his broken nails snagged on the satchel and the way his scrapes stung. 

“I’m sorry,” He breathed, though he wasn’t sure who he was apologizing to. Exhaustion overtook him, and he pulled the pelt over himself like a blanket, propped himself up against the tree, and immediately dozed off. 

It was midmorning before he woke, and only then to Niall shaking him awake. 

“Harry!” Niall breathed in relief, Michael standing over him as lookout. “Thank Christ. What were you thinking? We didn’t see you this morning and went to yours to find the door wide open.”

“Didn’t mean to.” Harry slurred groggily. “Woke up here.” 

“Jesus. We’re not trying anything like this again. The pelt stays with you.” Niall said firmly, helping Harry to his feet. Christ, lad, you’re a mess. Let’s get you home.”   
  
“Thank you.” Harry whispered, too tired and weak from the cold to muster up much else to say. Michael draped a jacket over his shoulders and the trio made their way back to town, high noon sun over them by the time they bustled Harry into his house, having gone the long way around town to avoid curious eyes. 

“Come on lad, bath, food, and bed.” Niall coached. “Leave the pelt in here with you, if you need.” He drew a hot bath, making sure Harry was awake enough to handle himself in there before going to cook up a hot meal. Michael left the boys alone, going to make an appearance in town so as people wouldn’t be too suspicious. 

Harry emerged, pink and feeling slightly more human, to Niall setting a plate with buttered toast, some porridge, and cheese. “Eat up.” He insisted, setting the food in front of Harry. “And then bed. You could’ve caught your death out there, you damn fool.” 

“Yes, mother.” Harry smiled drily, the pelt still tucked in his lap. “Thank you, Niall. Really. I don’t deserve you.” He dunked the bread in the porridge and began eating, feeling better with every bite. He felt whole again, thank the gods. He should have never tried burying the pelt.

“Stupid idiot.” Niall muttered, simply kissing the top of Harry’s damp hair and ruffling it. “You scared me half to death. Thought someone had taken you. You’re my brother, H, I’m always going to look out for you.” 

“I know. I’m sorry,” Harry promised. “Scared myself when I woke up, if I’m honest.” He admitted. “Was delirious, didn’t know where I was. I dunno how someone didn’t find me.” 

“Me neither,” Niall shook his head. “I’m glad they didn’t, though. I suppose we could have brushed it off as you being sleep deprived after Aoife passing, maybe. But in any case, you’re safe now, the pelt is safe, all is well.”

Harry nodded again. “Yes.” He agreed, sopping up the last of the porridge with the crust of bread and sitting back in his chair with a content sigh. “I feel like I could sleep for a week.” He rubbed his eyes. 

“Good. Go do that.” Niall insisted, shooing Harry off to the bedroom. “Tuck that pelt underneath ya, I’ll tidy up down here. No one will bother you, I’ll tell them you’re ill if anyone comes knocking.”

“Thank you, Niall.” Harry repeated for the hundredth time, trudging upstairs and collapsing into bed, the pelt tucked close to his chest like a child’s blanket. 

He slept through the day, only waking in the evening to gulp down some water and some more food, mostly so he would be able to tell Niall that he had done so, before falling back asleep. He woke the next morning with a stale taste in his mouth and an ache in his muscles, but he felt more human than he had since Aoife died, finally caught up on sleep and at peace. He stood tall and stretched, his joints cracking as he did so, and set about cleaning up the house. It wasn’t dirty, by any means, but sand accumulated quickly and he should start thinking about clearing out some of Aoife’s old things. Seamus’ too, for that matter- Aoife never really wanted to do so in the six months that had passed. 

He didn’t quite feel up to that right now though, so he stuck to sweeping the floors and dusting and tidying up the kitchen. It had been instilled in him that messy work areas lead to messy medicine, Aoife wouldn’t tolerate anything but clean surfaces and neat benches. That done, he headed to the market to seek out some more ingredients for his remedies- the herbs were the most important parts, but he still needed oils and some alcohol to bind them into salves or tinctures. 

He stopped by the pub on his way back for lunch, seating himself at the bar. Old O’Neil (as opposed to his son, young O’Neil), was behind it as usual, and nodded gruffly. 

“Harry,” He greeted, rubbing at a spot on the counter as he always seemed to do. “Lunch?”

“Yes, please.” Harry smiled, shrugging off his coat and struggling a little, as usual, to get the sleeve completely off his amputated arm. 

“May I?” A quiet voice offered behind Harry. He turned and was faced with Liam’s cousin, standing with a hesitant hand outstretched. 

“Thanks, mate.” Harry nodded, and Louis pinched the hem of the jacket so that Harry could shrug out of it. “Make that two for lunch, O’Neil.” He gestured for Louis to sit down. 

“Oh, that’s ok, I- ” Louis started to protest. 

“I insist.” Harry smiled kindly. “A friend of Liam’s is a friend of mine.”

“Thank you,” Louis cleared his throat awkwardly as O’Neil shuffled back to the kitchen to where his daughter had fresh bread and stew cooking. “I um, was actually coming in looking for work.”

Harry pursed his lips. “We’ve all been telling the old man he needs to hire someone for years now, but he kept insisting there’s no one to do it now as his son left for the mainland. Most of the men make better money fishing, so they don’t really come looking for work here. Maybe you’re in luck.” He said optimistically. 

Louis let out a breath he seemed to have been holding. “Hopefully.” He agreed. 

“What brings you here?” Harry asked curiously. “Are you staying long?”

“Planning on it.” Louis shrugged, though he didn’t really answer the reason why. Harry didn’t push the issue. 

“Lads.” O’Neil grunted, setting two steaming helpings in front of them. 

“Louis here is looking for work, O’Neil.” Harry spoke up, raising a pointed eyebrow. “You going to stop being so stubborn and take on some help?”

“Bah,” the old man grumbled. “You young folks don’t know how to work hard anymore. ‘Sides, don’t much like hiring strangers.”

“He’s Liam’s cousin, I can vouch for him. And he’s not a stranger for long, he’s moved here.” Harry said, knowing the barkeep mostly enjoyed arguing and was interested from the way a smile threatened to turn up the corner of his mouth. 

“You mute? Gotta make the cripple lad do all your talking?” He asked Louis. 

“No sir.” Louis answered, a grin of his own turning up. “I’m Louis Tomlinson. Like he said, Liam’s my cousin. My mother, Fiona, lived here a long time ago. She was his mum’s sister.”

That seemed to trigger something in the old man, his brow wrinkled. “I knew Fiona.” He said gruffly. “How is she?”

Louis was quiet for a long moment. “She’s passed.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” O’Neil said, a surprisingly gentle tone to his voice. “She was a good lass.” His eyes flicked to Harry and narrowed, as if he knew something about the both of them. “Unfortunately I still don’t think I need help.”

Louis chewed at the inside of his cheek. “A trial period?” He offered, barely keeping the desperation from his tone. “Give it a week, see that I’m a hard worker. I bartended in London, and I’m a quick study. If you still don’t think you need me after a week, no hard feelings.”

O’Neil sighed. “Fine.” He said. “A week. Be here at 9 sharp tomorrow.” 

“Yes sir.” Louis beamed. “Thank you.”

The old bartender waved him off and puttered off to the back again. 

“He likes you.” Harry grinned, nudging Louis playfully. “He’s gonna keep you on.” 

Louis laughed and tore a piece of bread off, popping it in his mouth. “I hope so. I’m not cut out for fishing.”

“Nah. You don’t quite look the type.” Harry teased. “Still too much city in you.”

“Oi,” Louis frowned. “I’m not too city.”

Harry just raised an eyebrow, a wry grin playing at his lips as he tucked into his lunch. “Sure.” He agreed playfully. “Want to come out in the boats with me and Niall tomorrow, then?” 

“Absolutely not. I can’t swim.” Louis squawked, shaking his head. 

“That’s what I thought.” Harry laughed. 

“Wait, you go out in the fishing boats?” Louis asked curiously. “Liam said you were more of the town healer.”

Harry snorted. “I dunno about healer. And no, not really. It’s not how I make a living, anyway. I go out with Niall now and then because I like it, but I’m not the most help.”

“Mm.” Louis nodded, finishing off his stew, an awkward silence surrounding them.

“You can ask.” Harry grinned. “I don’t mind.”

Louis snorted. “That obvious?” He asked, seeming a little ashamed. “You don’t have to talk about it. I guess I’m just curious.”

Harry shrugged. “It’s a part of me. I’m not ashamed of it. It’s natural to be curious, and I appreciate you attempting to not be a prick about it.” He joked. “It was amputated when I was young. There was a bad storm and I washed up on the beach smashed to bits. Niall found me, doc fixed me up, Aoife and Seamus took me in.” 

Louis let out a low whistle. “Damn.” He shook his head. “Wait, so you weren’t from this village?”

“Nope.” Harry confirmed. “Just kind of showed up one day, I guess. Don’t remember my previous life.” He lied. 

“Wow.” Louis shook his head. “Must’ve been some storm.” 

Harry grunted his agreement. “Aye. Changed my life, that’s for sure. I’m lucky to have ended up where I did.”

Louis hummed. “My mum used to talk about this place. Tell me stories about when she was little. I always wanted to visit, but my old man made us stay in London.”

“I’m sorry she passed.” Harry said softly. “I’m sure she’s glad to know you made it here. You said she was Ruth’s sister?”

Louis nodded. “They weren’t blood, so technically Liam and I aren’t either. She was adopted, like you. Ruth’s family took her in, she was a bit older than Ruth.” He went quiet, chewing his bottom lip. 

“You don’t have to talk about it.” Harry offered quietly. “It is hard to reopen wounds that haven’t yet healed.” 

Louis glanced at him, a smile ticking up the corner of his mouth. His eyes were a touch bright, but he blinked and the tear that had built up there vanished. “You’re sure you’re not a healer?” He joked lightly. “Sounds like you know a lot about wounds and healing.”

Harry chuckled, standing and shrugging his jacket back on. He left a few coins on the table for their meals, waving Louis off when he protested “Can’t go spilling all my secrets now, hm?” 

“No, suppose not.” Louis agreed, standing as well. “Thanks, Harry. For lunch, and everything.”

“Course,” Harry offered a kind smile. “Liam knows where to find me if you need anything else.” He bent to 

“I appreciate it.” The other man nodded. They both headed towards the door and went their separate ways, Louis back towards his cousins house and Harry towards his home. 

Harry took the long way home, wandering towards the rocky beach near where he had washed ashore all those years ago. He hadn’t noticed the unfamiliar footprints left in the sand around his house when he left that morning, but all the same he was feeling hesitant about keeping the pelt in the house any longer. He needed to find somewhere less obvious, somewhere people wouldn’t think to look. He wandered a bit, until he found an old cave he and Niall had discovered as boys. Even during high tide the tall rocks weren’t submerged, and so he carefully produced his pelt from his satchel and tucked it among the crags, stacking some rocks on it to disguise it. This could be a safe enough place for now, and it was close enough to his house that he could hurry down to fetch it quickly. 

He emerged from the cave and collected some kelp that had washed up on shore for good measure, before wandering back to his house. He shared a quiet greeting with an older, graying man that he had seen once or twice at the pub, some Englishman that never said much. He shrugged off the encounter, figuring he wasn’t the only one that liked to walk the beach, and let himself back in his house to start making more medicines. He crushed the herbs that were already dried and hung up the fresh ones, steeping some in oils and others leaving whole. He worked well into the night, humming quietly to himself. 

The days passed much the same for the rest of the week, Louis settling into his role at the pub, Harry making more medicines and charms and selling them in the market. It was a peaceful fall, the crisp air coming in off the sea warning of a harsh winter. The pelt stayed there in the cave, seemingly safe, for nearly two weeks, just long enough for Harry to let his guard down. 

It was odd- Harry could feel it as soon as the pelt was taken. He sat straight up from where he had been slumped at his desk, gasping and clutching his chest. He felt wrong, dirty, and altogether helpless. There was nothing that could be done. 

_ “Stay where you are and don’t make a fuss. I’ll come for you later.”  _

There was no audible voice, but Harry heard it all the same. A sob wracked its way through his body and he hugged Seamus’ old sweater tight around him, heart jackrabbiting in his chest. It had happened, it finally happened. The stranger had his pelt. 

He tried to stand, his intention to go to Niall’s for help, but he found he couldn’t move. The  _ “stay where you are,”  _ echoed through him. He couldn’t disobey. 

Some time later, in the late evening, there was a rap at his door, and Harry opened it hesitantly to find the gray stranger. 

“Darling.” He greeted with a sneer, crowing his way through the doorway and into the entrance hall. “Just my luck, isn’t it, that I got the crippled boy. Find yourself a selkie bride, they said, the most beautiful women in the world. Utterly devoted. No matter…” He trailed off. “Cup of tea, please, darling. We’ve much to discuss. My name’s Simon, and you’re mine now.”

Harry forced his eyes to remain dry, he wouldn’t give the stranger the satisfaction of crying. He instead placed the kettle on the stove, wringing his hands anxiously as he thought of ways to escape the situation. He could think of none- the bounds of this magic prevented him from hurting this man, he couldn't call for Niall, not without permission. 

He set the steaming mug of tea in front of the man, swallowing once. “What do you intend to do with me, then?” He asked quietly.

“Could be a bit more grateful.” The man sneered. “Take you somewhere that doesn’t stink of fish, for one.”

“They’ll notice I’m gone.” Harry warned. “People know what I am. They’ll be suspicious if I just disappear.”

“Well, you’ll have to tell them you’re leaving then.” The man shrugged, sipping his tea. “You’re moving to the city, found a new job.”

Harry shook his head. “They aren’t going to believe that.”

“Best make them.” The man shrugged. “I’ve spent too damn long waiting for one of you to slip up. I’m not going home empty handed. You tell them you’re leaving and you come with me, or I’ll kill you so no one else can have you.”

Harry went white, setting down his mug and smoothing his shaking hand against his trousers. “Very well.” He whispered. “When?”

“I’ll give you a day or so to pack your things. I’ll not have it be said I’m that cruel.” Simon stood. “I’ll be at the bar. You stay here, gather what you need. I’ll buy tickets for the ferry in the morning. Don’t open this door for anyone but me.” He wandered out the cottage door. 

Harry locked it behind him and promptly burst into tears, covering his mouth to try to stifle the sound and forcing a deep breath. 

His worst fear had been realized, and there was nothing he could do except hope Niall or someone figured it out before it was too late. He hadn’t left the house since yesterday, afterall. Surely someone would stop by before long. 

_ “Pack your things. Don’t dance around it.”  _ Echoed through his mind and he whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut. Slowly, he dragged himself around the house, gathering his clothes, a few pictures, things he couldn’t bear to leave behind. His mind grew fuzzier as the night dragged on, and eventually all he could do was curl up on his bed, hugging a pillow close to his chest. 

  
  


Louis glared at the slumped over man at the bar, rolling his eyes as he swept the floor around the bar. They were closing in twenty minutes, he’d need to wake the drunk up eventually. He grumbled and picked the man's bag up, setting it on the bar. Something sleek and shiny poked out, and his brow furrowed, something familiar about it was calling to him. Glancing again at the sleeping stranger, some old fisherman from England that had been lurking around town and staying at the inn, he carefully pulled the pelt out.

_ Louis was 21 again, clearing out cobwebs and mouse nests in the attic at his mother’s request. It was musty and hot and he hardly felt like he could breathe, dim light filtering in through the single window. There was an old chest tucked in the back corner, one he didn’t recognize, though it was always possible he had just never noticed it before. Curious, he set the broom aside and carefully picked the lock with a slim knife and a pin that he always had on him. Growing up poor in London led you to picking up a trick or two.  _

_ Lock released, Louis opened the lid and sneezed at the small cloud of dust that appeared. In it was a stack of letters, addressed to his father from a woman called Lydia, all marked as several years before his parents were married. An old wedding dress was tucked among them, and beneath that, a sleek seal pelt. He frowned and pulled it out, examining it carefully.  _

_ Something clicked in him just then. He didn’t know how, or why, but he knew it was his mother’s. He knew this was the reason for the lost look in her eyes, for the way she was devoted to her child but seemed fearful of her husband. Frowning, he gathered up the pelt and descended the ladder back to the main floor, walking quietly and avoiding the squeaky boards in the floor.  _

_ “Mum?” He asked quietly, peeking around the corner into the kitchen. His father was still working at the factory (the same one Louis had avoided like the plague, choosing instead to work in dingy bars or do petty robberies to support the family), so he didn’t know why he bothered being quiet, but something about this moment felt sacred. _

_ “Yes, darling?” Fiona hummed, looking over her shoulder. _

_ “I think this is yours.” Louis said, voice breaking and eyes flooding. He held out the pelt, and from the way her hands started shaking and she went white, he knew he was right.  _

_ “Where did you find that?” She asked weakly, hand reaching halfway as if to caress it before jerking it back.  _

_ “In a chest in the attic.” Louis replied. “With a bunch of letters from someone called Lydia.” _

_ “That was his first wife.” She whispered. “She died on their honeymoon. Drowned. It’s why he took me, he thought we should have saved her.” _

_ “Took you?” Louis asked, dreading the reply.  _

_ She sniffed and nodded. “My people are of the sea.” She whispered hoarsely. “I have not been home in so long. Once someone has our pelt, we are bound to them for as long as they have it. Enslaved to them.” _

_ “And if you get it back?” Louis asked, heart sinking to his stomach. _

_ “We’re free.” Fiona’s bright blue eyes met Louis’, and for a moment, they flashed a dark black. _

_ Louis was silent for a long moment. “Take it.” He whispered, stepping forward and pressing the pelt into her hands. “Take it. You should go.” _

_ Fiona’s tears began to spill as she stroked over the soft pelt. “My sweet boy.” She sniffed, pulling him into a tight hug. “I never regretted you You are my shining light. I love you so much, my darling.”  _

_ “I love you too, mum.” Louis choked out, arms wrapped tightly around her waist. “So much. You deserve to be free.”  _

_ They walked quietly together through the London streets until they arrived at the Thames. They embraced once more, and just like that, she was gone. A sleek gray seal surfaced a few hundred feet away and looked back at him once more, before diving with barely a splash. Louis sighed heavily and turned back towards their small home.  _

  
  


Louis snapped out of his flashback and glared at the stranger’s sleeping body. He took the pelt and stalked to the back, where Old O’Neil was counting the nights earnings. 

“You knew my mother?” He asked abruptly, the pelt hidden behind his back. “You knew what she was?”

Old O’Neil hardly looked up. “Shouldn’t you be sweeping?”

“Harry’s like her, isn’t he?” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“The drunk stranger at the bar does. He had a pelt. It’s Harry’s, isn’t it?” 

That made O’Neil stop his counting and look up. “I think you’re overtired. You should probably leave early.” He said carefully. “I’ll deal with the stranger.”

Louis hesitated, but nodded, turning and leaving out the backdoor without a word. He half walked, half ran down the main street towards Harry’s house, pelt tucked close to his chest. 

It was just his luck that Niall intercepted him.

“Louis,” The man greeted, nodding once towards him. “What’s the rush.”

“I er, need to see Harry. Ehm, medicine… stuff for Adaira.” Louis managed to get out.

“Hmm.” Niall narrowed his eyes. “I’m on my way to see him as well. Haven’t heard from him in a day or so.” 

Louis nodded. “Me neither. He usually has lunch at the bar.”

Niall grunted his agreement. “What’ve you got there?” He asked suspiciously. 

“Nothing.” Louis said a little too quickly, before he suddenly found himself pinned against the building with a large fishing knife at his throat. He cursed himself internally, he used to be so on guard in London. This sleepy little town and the urgency to get to Harry had him distracted. 

“I asked you a question.” Niall said quietly. 

“How do I know you don’t want it for yourself?” Louis spat back. “I’m returning it to him. It’s his.”

“Oh, aye, of course you are.” Niall sneered. “Quite the coincidence, hmm, that you show up in town the same day someone starts trying to break into his house. I’m his brother, I’m the one who found him. You think I wouldn’t have taken it by now if I wanted it?”

Louis struggled to catch his breath. “I wouldn’t steal it. I wasn’t the one breaking in. I found it in some old drunk’s bag at the bar tonight. I’m returning it to Harry, I swear.”

Niall narrowed his eyes. “Give it to me.” He finally said. “I’ll get it to Harry. You’ll know if I don’t give it to him, you can hunt me down and play hero then.”

Louis gritted his teeth. “Fine.” He hissed, shoving the pelt at Niall. “You’re welcome, then. He would’ve been gone before long, that stranger is foreign.”

Niall just grunted once and shoved off from Louis, walking down the street towards Harry’s house. 

“Harry, lad,” He called out. When there was no answer, he fumbled for his spare key and unlocked the front door. “Hazza?” He took the stairs two at a time, finding the boy curled up in bed. 

“I’ve got it, H.” Niall promised, draping the pelt over Harry’s shoulders and watching him let out a breath he seemed to have been holding for hours. 

“He told me not to leave, to pack and that he would come for me. I couldn’t move.” Harry whispered, voice dull and monotone. “I couldn’t do anything.”

“Oh, Hazza.” Niall sighed heavily. “I’m so sorry.” He pulled the boy into a tight hug. “I found Louis with it. He said he was on his way to return it to you, that some drunk in the pub had it. Dunno whether to believe him.”

Harry shrugged. Things had felt different in the last hour or so, but he couldn’t be sure. He felt drained, tainted. His bags were scattered around him, half packed, the compulsion to be ready to leave despite wanting to stay was too real. 

“You’re ok now, H. I told you, we’ll never let anything happen to you. None of us will.” Niall murmured, rubbing Harry’s back soothingly. 

Meanwhile, Louis was stalking back towards the pub, fury coursing through him. 

_ Rare Seal Found in River Thames.  _

_ Louis choked out a sob and threw the newspaper down from where his father had shoved it at him.  _

_ “This is your fault, boy.” The man snarled. “Your fault. She’s dead because of you. You think she’d rather be here, or dead?” _

_ Louis just glared at his father, turned and stormed out the door. “Dead. I know that’s what I would pick.”  _

The old drunk was awake now, Old O’Neil standing over him. “What did you want with our lad?” O’Neil was asking, a rifle slung casually in his arms. “Where did you come from?”

The man was rubbing his eyes. “Fuck you,” He slurred. “Deserve him. ‘S mine.”

“He’s a fucking living thing.” Louis spat out. “You’re not obligated to his life. He’s not some… some pet to enslave.” 

O’Neil glared over the drunk’s head at Louis. “Lad, if you’re going to get emotional about this, I think you’d best go find me Michael Horan instead.”

Louis instead stepped forward and grabbed the drunk by the back of the neck, spinning him around and punching him square in the jaw. 

“Louis, get out. Now.” O’Neil spat. “Go get Michael.” The man was slumped over the bar now, groaning and cradling his jaw. Louis hardly noticed the way his own knuckles had split or how they ached, simply turning on his heel and stalking back outside, muttering under his breath. He spat on the ground as he walked, rapping on the Horan’s door a block down. Michael opened soon enough despite the late hour. 

“Can I help you?” The older man rasped, narrowing his eyes and looking at Louis’ flushed appearance. 

“Old man needs help at the bar.” Was all Louis managed to get out, his hand smarting more and his nerves coming back to him in the cool air. “Might want to bring a shovel.” He started back down towards Liam’s tears burning at his eyes. Visions of his mother leaving, more recent ones of his house going up in flames, fleeing London… nothing would stop them from flashing behind his eyes. 

He wasn’t really sure how he got into bed, or when, or if he disturbed Liam and Adaira in doing so. He woke late the next morning, hand swollen and aching, and rolled out of bed to stumble back to work. 

“You’re late.” O’Neil commented as Louis let himself in, attempting to flatten his hair. 

“Mmm.” Louis grunted his agreement, starting his opening chores of setting up the bar and making sure the floors and tables were clean. 

“That bastard won’t be around anymore.” O’Neil said after a long silence. “He decided it would be best if he left town. I’ll chalk up your attitude to a situation hitting close to home. You should take a day off.”

Louis glanced at O’Neil, eyes bright. “Why didn’t anyone do the same for her?” He asked, gritting his teeth. 

O’Neil sighed heavily. “I don’t know, lad.” He confessed. “She was here one day and gone another. We tried to find her, but… “ He trailed off. “It’s not exactly as if you can go to the authorities, now, is it? This is a secret our town has kept for generations. Why do you think those pups come here when they’re orphaned? Because we keep the secret. We keep them safe. If word got out, we’d be overrun. We get enough loons like that Simon fellow as it is.”

Louis nodded once, managing to keep his tears from spilling. “She was locked up in that city for 25 years.” He whispered. “I never knew, ‘til I found her pelt. And then she was gone.”

“Well, she raised a good man.” The gruff old barkeep said. “I’m sorry she’s gone, lad. I’m sorry we couldn’t do more. But you saved Harry from the same fate last night. You can’t change the past, but you changed his future.” 

Louis chewed on the inside of his cheek, nodding once. 

“Go take a walk. Clear your head. I can handle things today.” O’Neil waved him out the door.

“Yessir.” Louis said quietly. 

“Good lad. And eh, if the constable asks. That fellow left at closing time.” O’Neill winked. 

Louis snorted. He had a fair few ideas about what may have actually happened to Simon. “Yessir.”

He trudged down the main road, the market well under way. He glanced at his bruised knuckles and winced, not sure what to do about them. People would ask questions, likely. 

“Here.” A voice stopped him, and Louis glanced up to find Harry in front of him, holding out a small jar.

Louis just gaped, not having prepared himself to see the man today. Hell, if he was Harry, he’d be curled alone in a ball for a week. 

Harry just rolled his eyes and pressed the jar into Louis’ hand, walking to his little stand besides Niall’s. 

“Thank you.” Louis whispered, several beats too late. He looked down at the jar, neatly labeled ‘for bruises’, and glanced over his shoulder at the man. Harry didn’t look up, too busy quietly setting up his salves and charms and medicines. Niall, however, was watching Louis, and narrowed his eyes into a threatening glare. 

Louis shrugged it off, figuring the fisherman would come around soon enough- after all, his father had been the one O’Neil sent Louis to find. Instead, he trudged back to Liam’s, finding the house empty. Adaira was likely at the market, Liam at his shop making horseshoes or whatever it was he did. Louis sat on his small bed in the guest room and dabbed some of Harry’s balm on his aching knuckles and marveled at the way a soothing, cool feeling seemed to take the edge off. He lay down for a few moments, but found himself still shaking with restless energy, unable to sleep, so he bent and pulled on his boots once more and started wandering up to the countryside, hands shoved deep in his pockets.

Niall, meanwhile, was bitterly filleting fish, jaw clenched tightly. “All I’m saying is, we don’t know that he wasn’t involved. Maybe he double crossed the old fucker to have you for himself.”

Harry just sighed, stacking the last of his jars. “No one is going to come buy fish from you if you’re holding that knife like that.” He said simply. “Calm down, Niall. I don’t trust him much more than you do, but your dad said he helped O’Neil out, at the very least. And he was on his way to my house with it.”

“Yeah, for what? To dangle it in front of you, make you think you could get it back? Make him feel less guilty, like you were cooperating of your own free will?”

“You said he handed it over.” Harry pointed out. 

“I had a knife to his throat, H. You see too much good in people.”

“Whatever.” Harry sighed, sitting back in his chair. His eyes narrowed as he watched the constable wandering the market, occasionally stopping to talk with merchants and buyers. It was unusual for the officers to be out wandering this early.

“Morning, lads.” The constable greeted as he arrived at Niall and Harry’s stands. “We were wondering if you had any information, a gentleman by the name Simon Crouch was staying at the inn, only he never returned last night. All of his belongings were left behind. Have you seen him around?”

“No, sir.” Niall answered. “We haven’t. Have you checked along the beaches? Sometimes those foreigners get drunk enough to think they ought to go for a swim and get caught unawares by high tide.”

“A few men are checking the beaches, aye.” The constable nodded. “Hopefully the man just wandered off.”

“Well, keep us posted. Let us know if you need anything.” Niall waved the man off cheerfully, Harry offering a quiet nod. 

“You’re sure they aren’t going to find him?” Harry asked under his breath. His stomach rolled at the thought that someone was dead because of him, but at the same time… it was his life or Harry’s. 

Niall snorted. “No chance in hell. Not like they’ll work hard to find him. He’s a traveller, no one around here is missing him.”

“If you’re sure.” Harry chewed at his cheek, still a bit worried. The pelt was tucked at the bottom of his basket again, though he was considering returning it to the locked chest in the house now that the apparent threat was gone. 

  
  


“I’m sure. We won’t let anything happen to you, H. I promise.” Niall vowed. 

“I know.” Harry nodded, taking a deep breath. “Thank you.”

The rest of the day passed without incident- the constable didn’t come around again, there were no shouts that Simon had been found. Instead, business at the market went on as usual, neighbors bustling around them buying and selling. Niall quickly ran out of fish and packed up, offering to stay the rest of the afternoon with Harry, but he waved Niall off, assuring him all was well. He continued to do business into the early afternoon, and was starting to pack up his things to head home when Louis walked back up to him, hands fidgety.

Harry held his breath, still apprehensive of the role Louis did or didn’t play in his capture. 

“I got you these.” Was all Louis said, voice quiet. He placed a small bundle of wildflowers and herbs on the table, before turning and walking back towards home. Harry gently picked up the bundle, recognizing the pink flowers as the ones he had told Louis about over lunch a few days ago. They grew high on rocky outcrops, somewhat treacherous to access, and further than he usually ventured. Harry had gone to collect some last week, only to discover they hadn’t yet bloomed and his trip had been for nothing, save the few early buds he managed to collect. 

“Thank you.” Harry whispered, but Louis was already gone. 

It went on like that for several days. Harry avoided the pub and generally didn’t speak with anyone other than Niall, but every day some small bundle appeared. Sometimes Harry watched Louis walk up and leave them on his bench at the market, on the day or two that he stayed home they showed up on his porch. Sometimes they were common finds that Harry usually had in his bag when he would eat lunch with Louis, other times random flowers and vegetation that Harry could only assume Louis thought were pretty. Those went in a vase in his windowsill rather than into medicines. Once there was even a stick, whittled to look like a seal. Niall insisted it was creepy, and weird, that he was somehow bribing Harry, but the selkie found it sweet. Eventually, nearly two weeks after his near-kidnapping, he ventured back to the bar for lunch. He settled at the bar, smiling shyly at Louis and taking a steadying breath. 

“Lunch is roast mutton today,” Louis offered. The bar was rather empty, but that wasn’t uncommon this early in the day. 

“That sounds great, thank you.” Harry smiled, tracing the grain of the wood with his finger. Louis disappeared into the back and returned with a steaming plate of meat and vegetables. 

“Thank you,” Harry said again. “And um. Thank you, for. Well, everything the past few weeks. But especially with… that man. I never thanked you properly.” 

Louis shook his head. “It’s no trouble. Anyone would do the same.”

“No, they wouldn’t. O’Neil told me what you did. It was brave of you.” Harry said sincerely. “I’m sorry I avoided you this long.”   
  


Louis offered a reassuring smile. “No hard feelings. I would do the same. Had to have been terrifying.”

Harry shuddered at the thought. “It just felt… dirty. Evil. Like part of his soul was touching mine. I hated it.” He poked around at his meal. “I could tell when you picked it up, though. When you took it from him. I wasn’t sure who it was, but it gave me some hope. Someone was helping, maybe. And you were. So. Thank you.”

“My pleasure, Harry. It’s what friends are for.” Louis assured. 

“Friends.” Harry agreed with a shy smile. 

With that, things went quickly back to the way they were. Harry ate lunch with Louis at the bar, Niall occasionally joining. They all met up with Liam for drinks a few evenings a month, and the town quickly forgot the stranger who disappeared. 

“Adaira is due any day now,” Louis said, wiping the bartop with a cloth absentmindedly. “I told Liam I’d find another place to move out, they need that room for the baby. I’ve been here long enough to be on my feet. D’you know any places renting?” 

“I’ve got room.” Harry spoke, the words tumbling out of his mouth before he could stop them. “There’s three empty rooms, at mine. Don’t need to worry about paying.”

“I can’t ask you to put me up for free.” Louis frowned. “That’s not fair.”

Harry shrugged. “I need help with fixing things up, now and then.” He gestured towards his missing left hand. “I don’t mind, honest. It’s too quiet, living there all alone.”

“You’re sure?” Louis asked uncertainly, studying Harry’s face. 

“I’m sure. You can move in tonight, if you want.” Harry shrugged. He really didn’t mind. He may not have known Louis long, but he trusted the man at this point, and he had plenty of room. He had been thinking about renting out a room or two anyway, only hesitating because he was afraid of someone finding the pelt. And, well. Louis had already done that.

“Thank you, Harry.” Louis said genuinely. “I’ll speak with Liam tonight, let him know. I’ll probably bring things tomorrow, it will be late by the time I’m finished here.” 

“No trouble.” Harry waved Louis off. “Whenever you like, really. I’m easy to find.” He stood and put a few coins down for his lunch, slinging his large satchel crossways over his shoulder. “I’ll see you soon, then.”

Louis nodded and waved him off. “Soon.” He agreed. “And thank you again, Harry.”

Harry smiled. “Happy to.” He said simply, saluting Louis as he headed for the door. He wandered through the high street, heading for the highland meadows outside of town. He was running low on several of the herbs he needed, and the season was finally kicking off so he could replenish his stores after the long winter months.

It was close to an hour’s walk for his prime spots, but he found good patches of the herbs he sought, along with some berries and even mushrooms. Satchel full and sun drifting towards it’s late afternoon position, he started wandering back to town, humming some old song about a lassie and her lost love under his breath. 

Harry was home and hanging up his herbs to dry the next morning when there was a gentle knock at his door. He wiped his hand clean on his apron and opened it to find Louis standing sheepishly on the threshold, a bag slung over his shoulder and another at his feet.

“Morning.” Harry greeted cheerfully, letting Louis in with a shy smile. 

“Thank you again, Harry.” Louis said. “You really didn’t have to.” 

“It’s no trouble. It’s lonely here, sometimes. Will be nice to have someone in the house.” Harry smiled. “Here, I’ll show you around.” He waved Louis in. “This is the entrance, obviously.” He laughed to himself before clearing his throat awkwardly. “And erm, the whole main level is one big room, basically. He lead Louis down the short hall to the cozy living room, worn couches with thick quilts Aoife had made and a small fire crackling in the hearth. 

“I spend a lot of evenings here, it’s a nice place to read and such.” Harry narrated, nervously fluffing one of the pillows. “And that’s the kitchen, just through there. Sorry it’s a bit of a mess, I promise I don’t always have all my stuff strewn about.” There was a wide kitchen bench separating the livingroom and kitchen, and his herbs lay in bundles across it, some hanging from the support beams as well. 

“S no worries, I’m not a great cook by any means.” Louis joked. “Probably safer if I stay out of there. I usually just eat at the pub.”

Harry grinned. “I cook some. I’m happy to share, when I do. I don’t mind.”

“You’re kind, Harry. Thanks.” 

Harry turned back towards the kitchen. “That door goes to a little mudroom and through to the yard. There’s a garden, I grow some herbs and a bit of veg there. Help yourself.”

“Never had room for much more than a flower box in London.” Louis confessed. “Always wanted to try my hand a bit more. Not sure where to start, though.”

“I’m happy to show you.” Harry smiled. “It’s mostly pulling weeds, but it’s soothing, I think.” 

Louis smiled. “That would be nice. Thanks.”

Harry found himself blushing slightly, but he wasn’t sure why. “Erm, that’s about it for down here. We can go look at the bedrooms, if you like.”

He lead the way to the narrow staircase near the front door. “Some of the boards are a bit wobbly,” He warned. “I keep meaning to fix them.” 

“No worries. I can do that, if you’ve the tools.” Louis offered. There were four rooms at the top of the narrow landing, all with the doors open and faint sunlight streaming in from the east facing ones. 

“That ones mine,” Harry nodded towards the furthest one on the east side. It was the largest, having been Aoife and Seamus’, but he had moved into it a few weeks ago. It was roomier, and had ample space for his things. “And that one beside it is the bathroom. The others are free though, take your pick.” 

“They’re lovely.” Louis smiled, peeking in the rest of the rooms and selecting the one across from Harry’s. It was a little smaller, but bigger than the other two, and he would be able to sleep a little later without the sun greeting him first thing. He had taken to closing the bar and as such found himself sleeping later to make up for his late nights. 

“Well, um. I guess I’ll leave you to get settled. Let me know if you need anything. I, uh. Was going to put on a cuppa if you want one?”

“That sounds lovely. Thank you, Harry.” Louis said kindly, winking. “I appreciate it.”

Harry nodded and found himself blushing again, hurrying back down the stairs to put on some tea and finish working on his medicines. 

  
  


Louis emerged some time later, finding a still steaming mug of tea waiting for him on the kitchen bench and Harry grinding some purple herbs in a mortar and pestle. 

“Do you mind if I watch?” Louis asked curiously, wrapping his hands around the mug. 

“Not at all.” Harry glanced up and smiled softly, mixing in other odds and ends to crush into a paste. 

“Where did you learn it all?” Louis asked, cautiously sniffing at a bright yellow flower before setting it back down. 

“My gran. Well, adopted, I guess. Aoife, the one that raised me. Her mum taught her, and her mum before that the way she told it. Her older daughter got married and moved to England, and her younger daughter passed, so she was excited when I was interested in learning.”

“Do you… “ Louis pursed his lips. “I dunno. Is it magic, or just herbs? Is that rude to ask?”

Harry laughed, brushing a stray curl from his forehead. “I don’t think it’s rude. I’m a selkie, not a witch. Aoife thought maybe mine were a little stronger, like I could will a little more life in the plants, but at the end of the day, no. They’re just herbs.”

“Huh.” Louis mused. “I still have some of that bruise balm you gave me. Works wonders. Had to ask.” 

“Glad to hear.” Harry smiled. “It’s a lost art, I suppose. But my people and Aoife’s people lived here centuries before western doctors came. Maybe we didn’t know how to safely, I dunno, amputate an arm.” He gestured at his left side. “But we know which plants speed healing.” 

  
  


Louis nodded, fascinated. “Makes sense.” He mused, going quiet again as he watched Harry work. 

  
  


Things settled quickly into a new normal for the pair. There was a peaceful friendliness in the house- Louis emerged from his room in the morning to find a mug of tea waiting for him, though Harry was often long gone. Louis kept the hearth going when he came in late so the house wasn’t so cold when they woke. Sometimes, on quiet, rainy days that neither of them wanted to venture into town, much less into the highlands to forage, they both curled up under respective blankets with books on the couch and read until one or both of them accidentally fell into an afternoon nap. 

“How did you know it was mine?” Harry broke the silence on one such rainy afternoon. He hadn’t really been reading, not for a long while, and he had been wondering about that night months ago.

Louis set his book down and rubbed over the stubble coming in on his chin. “I don’t know.” He confessed. “Something about you felt familiar, from the moment we met. Your story about washing up on shore intrigued me, but mostly you just had the same… aura around you as my mum. When I saw the pelt I just knew.”

“Your mum?” Harry asked softly, not wanting to pry. 

Louis nodded. “She was like you.” He said, voice cracking slightly. “I didn’t know, I never knew. I only really got the full story from the old man when I came here.” He took a deep breath. “Washed up, same as you, orphaned. He said there’s always at least one a generation. Liam’s grandparents took her in, raised her with aunt Ruth.” My da was from another town, came here to work and fell in love with this woman called Lydia. They got married, but she died on their honeymoon. Drowned. But it was suspicious, I guess, because she was from here, she knew how to swim and knew to avoid rough water. So they thought maybe he had pushed her in or something. So while everyone is off trying to figure that out, he stole my mums pelt. Disappeared in the middle of the night. No one noticed right away, they were so consumed with trying to find out what happened to Lydia, and then she was just… gone.” He cleared his throat. “He started letting her write home to Ruth after I was born, long as she didn’t say anything truthful about him, made it sound like she wanted to come to London. Never let her come back. I found her pelt a couple of years ago, was the first I knew of it.” He shook his head. “Freed her, but I don’t think she made it to the ocean.”

Harry reached out hesitantly and squeezed Louis’ hand. “I’m so sorry, Louis.” He whispered, his own eyes bright. “Thank you for telling me.”

Louis shrugged and offered a hesitant smile. “I’m just glad the same didn’t happen to you.” He confessed. 

Adaira had her baby, a little girl, three weeks later. They called her Caitlin Fiona, and Harry pretended not to see how Louis shed a few tears at the name. 

  
  


Spring was well underway before they knew it, and Harry taught Louis how to till the ground in their little garden, plant the seeds, and pull unwanted weeds. They both went into the highlands often to find things for Harry’s medicines or just enjoy the spring air, usually silent save for the occasional acknowledgement of a plant or animal. Harry was in the kitchen, laying out yesterday's collections to dry, when he heard a clanging outside and a “No, bad!”

He frowned and stepped outside to find a very sheepish looking Louis wrestling a very muddy puppy out of the garden. He snorted and covered his mouth, raising an eyebrow. 

“I swear it followed me home.” Louis said, grunting as he slipped and fell flat on his back, which delighted the puppy and earned him some muddy pawprints on his chest and some chewed on ears. 

Harry couldn’t help but laugh. “Followed you home, huh?” He teased, stepping down to offer Louis a hand up. “Looks like one of Mr. Finnegan’s, he has a litter or two a year.”

“Delightful.” Louis sighed, managing to get to his feet and making a face at the mud coating most of him. 

Harry just giggled and scooped up the puppy. “You’ve both earned yourselves baths.” He said simply. “We’ll return him clean, at least.” 

“Yes, mother.” Louis winked. “You.” He pointed at the puppy, “Are on my shit list, you little rascal. No, don’t give me those eyes. Absolute menace.”

Harry laughed, shaking his head. “Go, shoo.” He waved Louis inside. “Leave your clothes in the mudroom, I just cleaned.” He averted his eyes and hid his blush at the way Louis willingly stripped down to his pants in front of Harry and instead wrestled the puppy into the kitchen sink to give it a good scrub. 

An hour later, both previously muddy parties clean and dry, they started up the road out of town to Finnegan’s, a few miles north of the town center. He was a crabby old man, really only wanted to tend his sheep, but he had a soft spot for Harry. 

“Lads.” The weathered old man grunted, mending a fence on the edge of his property as they walked up. 

“Hi, Mr. Finnegan.” Harry greeted cheerfully. “Is this one of your pups? He followed Louis here home.” 

Finnegan grunted again. “Third time he’s run off like that. I’ve no use for sheep dogs that run away from sheep. Keep him, if you want. You, boy, help me with this wire.”

Louis stepped up obediently, passing off the puppy to Harry and helping the man twist together the wires holding the fence together. 

“You’re sure you don’t want him?” Harry asked uncertainly, looking at the wiggly puppy in his arms. “I know your dogs are worth a lot.”

“Bah. Worth a lot for the work they do, he’s not doing any work. Useless to me. Find someone else for him if you don’t want him.”

Louis made eye contact with Harry, waiting to see what the man said. They had never discussed whether pets would be ok before, but Louis was secretly attached to the young dog already. 

Harry just grinned and shook his head. “You’re lucky you’re cute.” He muttered, though he wasn’t sure if he was talking about the dog or Louis. “We’ll keep him. The second you dig in my garden, you’re gone.” He held the puppy up at eye level. “You hear me? Absolute rascal.”

And that was that. Louis named him Sunny, and the rowdy black and white pup was soon inseparable from the two men. He was more Louis’ dog, sure- slept at the foot of his bed, walked with him to work and greeted everyone outside the pub, that is, until Harry walked through town to set up the stand or wander the highlands, and then he was stuck by the man’s side all day. 

Time passed, as it always does. The anniversary of Seamus’ death came and went, and then Aoife’s and before long Louis had been in Portree for a year. 

Harry was wrestling with his bedsheets, swearing under his breath. He had long since learned to live with one hand, but some tasks were a special sort of hell, like putting fresh sheets on. 

“Need some help?” Louis asked, standing in the doorway.

Harry snorted. “Please.” He sighed, rubbing his forehead. “Sorry.”

“Don’t need to apologize.” Louis shrugged, taking one end and helping Harry stretch them out and tuck in corners. “Hard enough with two hands, forget one.”

Harry just offered a small smile, the two working in companionable silence to tuck in the fitted sheet, and then the top sheet. The thick quilts weren’t hard but Louis helped anyway, and Harry couldn’t help the way his stomach fluttered when Louis handed him the last pillow with a wink.

“Thanks again.” Harry smiled. “Do you work today?”

“Naw, the old man said he’s got things under control.” Louis shrugged, leading the way out of the room. 

“Want to go for a walk, then?” Harry offered. “Need to get some more stuff, I’m sure Sunny would like to stretch his legs.”

“Yeah, sounds great.” Louis agreed. “I’ll go get my coat.”

“Cool.” Harry smiled, shrugging on his own and gathering his satchel and a basket. Sunny danced impatiently by the front door, so Harry bent to scratch behind the pup’s ears while Louis got ready. He emerged a few minutes later with boots on and a coat over his sweater, cap tucked low over his ears. 

“Ready?” Louis grinned. Sunny barked his agreement, causing both Louis and Harry to laugh. 

“Sometimes I think he understands more than he lets on. But somehow he doesn’t get what ‘get out of my garden, you fuzzy bastard means?” Harry sighed playfully, opening the door. Sunny darted out and lead the way up the road, tongue lolling. 

“I believe that’s what they call selective hearing.” Louis joked. They wandered in companionable silence for a while, up through town and towards the meadows they frequently occupied. 

“Maggie Duff came by the stand looking for you, yesterday.” Harry teased quietly. “And then transitioned very smoothly asking if I made love potions, that her gran said I might. Not suspicious at all.” 

Louis blushed bright red. “Oh yeah?” He grinned, shaking his head. “Was wondering why she was hanging around the bar so much. Bit young for that. What’d you tell her?”

Harry laughed. “That I didn’t tamper with black magic and she should stay well away from it.” He joked. He left out the part where he briefly considered selling her a laxative in an uncharacteristic jealous moment. “You, ehm. You don’t have to like. Not date, because you live with me. I don’t mind if you bring people home. Seems like you’re here for the long haul, its reasonable to start thinking about. I dunno, courting people.” He cleared his throat awkwardly. 

Louis snorted. “Lad, that was just about as awkward as my mum telling me about the birds and the bees.” He teased. “I’m not interested in Maggie Duff, or any of the girls around. Not something I’d thought of. But thanks, H. Erm, same to you, if. I dunno, you were wanting to bring someone round.”

Harry was tomato red at this point, the ‘not interested in any of the girls,’ ringing in his head. What did that mean? “Oh, no. I’m not. Really interested in them either. Not many of them want to pursue the odd orphaned lad anyway.” He joked. 

“C’mon, Harry. You’re lovely. Any of them would be lucky to court you.” Louis knocked shoulders with him, winking gently. 

Very laddy. Brothers, friends. Nothing more. That was all that was going on here. Harry grinned and cleared his throat, forcing the butterflies down. 

“Cheers. Just the same, not interested in them.” Harry shrugged. They resumed their easy silence, watching in amusement as Sunny chased butterflies and hares and the occasional bird while they trekked up the hillside.

_ They were 18, had snuck a bottle of Michael’s good whiskey from his cabinet and were well on their way to being drunker than any 18 year old had any business being. Niall was a ruddy red color, giggling and reciting a story about how Deirdre Flanagan had let him have a hand up her shirt and shared a fair few kisses with him. Harry drew little designs in the sand where they were sitting on the beach, biting his lip and hesitating when Niall asked him if things had ever progressed with Anna, the girl a year below them that had been pursuing him.  _

_ “I don’t like her that way,” Harry shrugged, watching the fire they had built pop and crackle. “So I told her she was best off courting someone else.”  _

_ “That’s ok, lad. More will come. What about Flora, hey?”  _

_ Harry frowned, digging his fingers deeper in the cool sand. “Niall, what if I didn’t like any of the girls?” _

_ “Whatdya mean?” Niall asked, turning to face Harry, bright eyes reflecting the firelight.  _

_ “I mean, like. I don’t like any of them. I don’t look at them like you do.” Harry whispered, frowning at the beach. The world spun around him, a little, but it wasn’t too bad as long as he stayed still. “I kind of. I dunno, I look at the boys.” _

_ Niall was quiet for a long time, watching the way the whiskey sloshed around in the dark bottle. “You’re my brother, Hazza. It doesn’t matter.” He finally said, wriggling closer to snuggle Harry in the dark. “M gonna take care of you all the time.” _

_ Harry felt a few tears spill and hugged Niall tight. “Brother.” He echoed quietly. He was starting to think he was maybe a fair bit drunker than Niall.  _

_ “Brother.” Niall smiled, ruffling Harry’s curls.  _

_ “Niall Horan! You and Harry had better put that damn fire out. It’s past midnight, get inside. And if either of you puke in my garden-” Aoife’s voice cut down the beach, causing the boys to start giggling.  _

_ “There will be hell to pay.” They whispered in unison. They scrambled to their feet and kicked sand over the driftwood to extinguish the flames, staggering back towards the house.  _

  
  


“Look, some of those mushrooms for that tea,” Louis pointed out a crop of them at the base of a large tree. 

Harry shook himself free of his daydream. “Oh, great.” He said cheerfully, wandering over that way. “Haven’t found any of these for a while.” He hummed, carefully slicing them free from the tree and adding them to his basket. “Good catch, Lou.” 

“Learned from the best.” Louis joked, throwing a stick that Sunny proudly ran up and presented them with. 

“That’s true.” Harry winked, straightening up. They wandered for another hour or so until their baskets were full before slowly moseying back towards town. They headed into the house and kicked off their boots, Louis going to get the fire back going in the hearth and Harry to start laying out their findings. It didn’t take long, and he emerged from the kitchen to find Louis half asleep on the couch with Sunny on his lap. So much for not being allowed on the furniture. 

“I’m going to catch up with Niall,” Harry spoke softly, a similar bottle of whiskey tucked in his coat. “I’ll be back late, likely.”

“Ok.” Louis rubbed his eye sleepily. “See you later.” He was almost immediately dozing again- Sunny hadn’t stirred at all.

Harry smiled softly and headed for the door, wandering down towards the pier where Niall was working on mending his boat. 

“Afternoon,” Niall grinned as Harry sat on the dock and set the bottle next to him. “What’s that for?”

“I’m in love.” Harry said frankly. “And it’s a problem.” 

Niall stopped what he was doing and looked at Harry with a quizzical brow. “I know. Why is that a problem?”

“What do you mean you know?” Harry demanded, staring at his best friend incredulously. “Who do you think with?”

“I mean, Louis, obviously. I kind of thought you two were already, you know,” He made a rude gesture, “Together.” Niall confessed, stepping out of the boat and sitting beside Harry, cracking open the bottle.

“What the hell do you mean?” Harry demanded, accepting the liquor when Niall handed it over. 

“The lad dotes on you,” Niall laughed. “He doesn’t ask what you need, he just. Knows.” He shrugged. “And you look at him like he hung the stars or sommat. Have for months.” 

Harry’s jaw was practically on the floor. “What the hell are you talking about?” He demanded, pushing his curls off his forehead. It was fruitless, the sea wind put them right back in his eyes. “He doesn’t dote, you dote.”

“I don’t dote.” Niall shook his head. “I ask if you need anything and I check in on you, because you’re my brother and I care. What Louis does is different. His eyes are always on you. He’s just watching, does things before you even know they need done. Things that you’d yell at me for even offering to do.” 

_ Harry was struggling to get a jar open, frowning to himself as the stubborn metal refused to release from the glass. He never screwed them on tight for this reason, especially the little ones. He was adept at holding things in the crease of his left elbow and opening them with his right, but it still proved difficult sometimes. Wordlessly Louis appeared beside him and gently took the jar, opening it and passing it back to Harry with a small smile.  _

_ “Thanks,” Harry said, pouring the balm he had prepared into the jar. He replaced the lid and moved on with his mixtures, humming quietly to himself.  _

There were a dozen other instances that came to mind- helping him with his coat, mending things around the house without Harry even noticing until he realized that floorboard wasn’t creaky anymore, that window wasn’t drafty. Even the bedsheets this morning. 

“That doesn’t mean he dotes,” Harry argued. “I told him he could stay with me for free, that I might need help with things now and then.” 

“And to anyone else, that would mean they wait until you ask for help.” Niall countered. “You two are practically in each other’s pockets- you eat lunch at the pub when he’s there but have to be convinced to go if he isn’t working. He goes on your walks with you, I saw you both this morning. If one of you was a woman, the whole town would assume you were married already. Although, maybe not. Half the old broads in this town just complain about their old fat husbands. You two like each other too much.”

Harry groaned and buried his head in his hands. “What do I do?” He demanded. “There’s no way he’s… like me. Half the girls in town are after him. Maggie Duff asked me for a love potion, for chrissakes.” 

Niall cackled, having witnessed the exchange yesterday. “I thought you were going to deck her right there. I never understood ‘If looks could kill’ until then.”

“I almost gave her a laxative.” Harry whispered, scrubbing over his face and reaching for the bottle again. “I’m an awful person.”

Niall laughed again, shaking his head. “Should’ve, honestly.” He joked. “Love potions, for crying out loud. Considering most of this town just thinks you’re some crippled orphan lad, they sure trust that you’ve got magic.” 

Harry rolled his eyes. “I understand why Aoife hated being called a witch now. Like, it’s literally just… plants.” He took another swig of the whiskey. “What do I do, Niall?”

“Tell him,” Niall shrugged, grabbing for the bottle. “What do you have to lose?” 

Harry leveled him with a steely glare. “Like, literally everything.”

“You know that’s not true. Everyone here adores you. First assumption would be that Liam’s weird English cousin is spreading lies,” Niall said simply. 

Harry sighed heavily. “I dunno.” He mumbled, rubbing his eyes. “Can we go out on the boat?”

“Absolutely not.” Niall said cheerfully. “You’re a lightweight and probably halfway to hammered already, and I intend on getting there myself. Tomorrow, if you still need to clear your head. Come on, let’s go back to mine.”

He helped Harry up and the pair staggered to Niall’s little house, across the street from his parent’s in town. He had bought it a year or so ago in anticipation of settling down, though for now proudly proclaimed it his bachelor pad. 

“I… gotta go home.” Harry sighed heavily, standing from the couch several hours later. “M tired. Want bed.”

“Mmhmm.” Niall agreed, blinking and reaching out a hand to steady Harry. “Can you walk? Sleep on the couch.” He suggested. 

“No, wanna go home. Sunny.” Harry sighed, sitting back down as the room began to spin. “Bed.”

“Bed.” Niall agreed solemnly, frowning when there was a knock at the door. “S open!” He called, rubbing his eyes. 

Louis cracked the front door hesitantly, relief washing over him when he saw Harry. “Sorry, didn’t expect you to be out this late and you weren’t at the pub. Wanted to make sure you were ok.” He said. “Looks like you lads had fun.”

“Louis!” Harry grinned, eyes glossy and cheeks red. “Was going home. But the world is.” He made a spinny motion with his fingers. “Dizzy.”

“Oh, the world is dizzy is it?” Louis grinned. “Was the world drinking too much too?”

“Prob’ly.” Harry hummed solemnly. Were his eyes open? He wasn’t sure. 

“Impeccable timing, good sir.” Niall said dramatically. “Harold was going home, but I don’t think he knows where home is.” 

“Do too,” Harry huffed. “Fishy smelling bastard.”

Louis snorted. “Alright, boys. We’ll get you home, Harry. Where’s your coat, lad?”

Harry sighed, throwing his hand in the air. “Around. I dunno.” 

“By the door,” Niall supplied helpfully, pointing at the coat rack to Louis’ right. 

“Ok. Come on lad, up we get.” Louis encouraged. “Niall, are you ok? Seem to be handling this better.” 

“Right as rain, lad. Take’s more’n some whiskey to down a Horan.” Niall grinned cheerfully. 

“Alright, just as well. Let’s get you to bed too, eh?” Louis grinned, helping Niall up and guiding him to his bedroom. “Sleep it off, lad.” 

Niall waved him off. “Go take care of that lovely boy. G’night,” He said, curling up under the quilt with his clothes still on. 

“Yessir,” Louis laughed, returning to the living room to find Harry playing with the laces on his boots but not tying them. 

“Here we go, H.” Louis shook his head fondly, quickly knotting the laces and helping him into his coat. “What’s the cause for celebration, then?”

Harry sighed, leaning slightly on Louis for support as they stepped into the cool air, wandering through town to Harry’s little cottage. “I dunno. You’re just pretty, I guess.” 

Louis blushed, glancing at the boy. “That so?” He asked, biting back a grin. “Thank you.”

Harry nodded solemnly, looking down at Louis with a cheesy smile. “You’re welcome,” 

Louis unlocked the front door and guided Harry in the threshold, peeling off his coat and helping him with his shoes. “I think you’re pretty too, Hazza. Come on, we should get you to bed.” 

“You think I’m pretty?” Harry asked, face lighting up as Louis bundled him up the stairs and into bed. 

“Yes, love. Very pretty.” Louis assured, helping Harry under the sheets. His heart was racing, cheeks permanently colored red at this point. Everything about this felt dangerous, forbidden.

_ “Get out of my house,” his father roared. “I wanted you out years ago, my son getting arrested for being a damn thief, but your mother insisted. Then you fucking free her, and now this? Get out. Out!” He screamed, throwing a vase at Louis. “I’ll not have your kind here. Bad enough you’re some half-bred damned beast. Out.”  _

_ Louis didn’t have to be told twice. He grabbed his coat and ran, heart racing.  _

_ When he returned the next day, hoping to break in and get a few things while his father was at work, he found a charred shell. Burned last night, with the old man in it. Got drunk and the fire in the hearth got out of control, according to a neighbor. _

_ Louis just nodded, biting his lip. He had been planning on going to Scotland to stay with his cousin anyway. May as well leave now.  _

_ He picked a few pockets, enough for a change of clothes and a train ticket, and left. London had nothing for him anymore. _

  
  


“Goodnight, H.” Louis whispered. “Sleep tight.” He tucked the quilt around Harry’s shoulders, turning for the door. 

“G’night” Harry whispered, eyes already half closed. “Love you,” he mumbled, quiet snores rapidly filling the room. 

Louis felt tears flood his eyes and he took a steadying breath as he tiptoed to his own room, Sunny on his heels. He curled under his own sheets, biting at his lips and forcing deep breaths into his lungs. He felt split down the middle. Half of him was elated, his heart jackrabbiting in his chest with the thrill of Harry potentially reciprocating his feelings. Half of him was wary, was considering leaving now, before things got out of hand, before things got dangerous.

He drifted off into a fitful sleep, tossing and turning with his options. Sometime in the night, he felt a warm weight curl up behind him. Assuming it was Sunny, he sighed and drifted off again, finally able to rest.

Harry woke that morning in an unfamiliar bed, with a pounding headache and a mouthful of someone's hair. It took him a long moment to realize exactly where he was, and what the warm weight tucked against his chest was, and that he really, really had to pee. 

“Fuck.” He groaned quietly, rubbing his eyes and feeling a wave of nausea roll over him. He kicked free of the blankets and legs he was tangled in and stumbled towards the bathroom, relieving himself and splashing water on his face from the tap, willing himself not to vomit. 

He lost the battle. The world faded out a little as he emptied the contents of his stomach into the toilet, and he was jolted back to reality with a cool cloth on the back of his neck and a glass of water being pressed into his hands. 

“You don’t need to watch this,” Harry coughed, laughing humorlessly. “M ok. Was my own stupid idea.”

“Yeah, well.” Louis shrugged, still rubbing Harry’s back gently. “You think you’re done?”

Harry nodded, sipping the water cautiously. “Yeah.” He winced, standing with Louis’ help and brushing his teeth. “I’m sorry, about last night.” 

Louis hesitated, fiddling with a loose string on his jumper. “What part?”

“Making a fool out of myself. Couldn’t even walk home. And um, if I made you uncomfortable… I don’t know how I wound up in your bed last night.” Harry said awkwardly. The words unsaid weighed heavy on his tongue, and he finished off the water. 

“How much do you remember?” Louis finally, asked, eyes flicking up to meet Harry’s in the little mirror above the sink. 

Harry took a steadying breath, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. There was a long pause before he finally spoke. “All of it.”

Louis nodded, looking at his hands, the silence hanging heavy in the air while he searched for words. 

“I’m sorry,” Harry said again. “I. I’ll understand, if you want to leave. I crossed a line, I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable,”

“Shut up.” Louis said, cutting off Harry’s tumbling words. The taller boy clamped his jaw shut, still a bit pale with illness.

Louis took a deep breath and gently spun Harry around to face him, taking his hand and squeezing it gently before leaning up and pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable. You have nothing to apologize for.” he whispered. 

Harry bit back the smile that threatened to split his face. “I can’t believe you just kissed me right after I puked. That’s disgusting.”

“Shut up.” Louis laughed. “You brushed your teeth.”

“Yeah, but like. How can you remotely find me kissable after watching that. Like, I definitely wouldn’t kiss me.”

“Oh for chrissakes,” Louis sighed. “Go downstairs, you monster. I’ll put tea on.” 

Harry obeyed, padding down the narrow stairs and ignoring the way his head throbbed. He groaned and curled up on the couch under a quilt, smiling at the way Sunny snuggled against him and warmed his feet. Who needs slippers when you have a dog?

Louis emerged from the kitchen with toast and two mugs of tea, forcing Harry to get some of both in his stomach before he gingerly settled on the couch beside him, a dogs-width distance between them. 

“We should talk about it, huh?” Harry asked, feeling halfway human again. Well. Halfway part-human. He stared into the low burning embers in the hearth, scratching absent-minded at Sunny’s ears.

“Yeah,” Louis agreed, taking a steadying breath. He paused for a while. “How long?”

“I knew when I was 14, probably. ‘Round when all the boys were starting to fall for the girls. I’ve known I liked you since the incident. Well,” He amended. “Looking back, I definitely started having. I dunno, a crush, around then. When you started bringing me things. I realized I… loved you,” the words seemed to get stuck in his throat, “Yesterday, when Niall informed me he thought we were already together.” He made the same rude gesture that Niall had done yesterday. 

Louis snorted at the gesture, nodding and biting his lip. “So that’s what prompted the drinking.”

Harry nodded shyly. “Was, erm. A bit convinced you were just a very nice roommate.” He confessed. 

Louis laughed outright at that. “You’re a bit oblivious.” He agreed. “I think I knew as soon as I saw you.” He whispered, glancing at Harry out of the corner of his eye. “You looked so sad. Just… drained, I think. I remember wishing I could cheer you up, even though I only just met you. I ignored it for a long time, I had just.” He paused, blinking back tears. “I nearly got caught, in London. My dad found out, at least. About… me liking men. It’s part of the reason I came here. So I had kind of thought, you know, I won’t pursue anything. I’ll just be a loner, it’s not worth it. So I pushed those feelings away. But you’re just so lovely, I couldn’t help it. And then moving in with you, I started thinking maybe you felt the same way, but you never reciprocated, so I backed off, a little.”

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose. “I can’t believe I was that dense. This whole time?” He demanded. 

“The whole time.” Louis confirmed with a laugh. “Sorry, darling. I’ll try to be more explicit in the future.”

Harry blushed at the pet name. “I left my pelt in your room.” He confessed quietly. “I was going to move it, after you moved in. That room used to be mine. But it just felt… safe there. So I left it. It’s under the loose floorboard in a chest.” 

Louis smiled softly, reaching over to card through Harry’s hair. “I’ll always keep it safe.” He whispered. “Harry, I promise I will. I’ll never take it, and I’ll never let anyone else take it either.”

Harry met his eyes, biting his lip. “I know.” He whispered. “S why I told you.”

They stayed on the couch the rest of the day, curled together under the quilts, talking and exchanging shy kisses.

The thing was, nothing really changed between them. Harry still made his medicines and sold them at the market. He still met Louis for lunch at the pub, which he eventually bought from Old O’Neil. They still walked Sunny along the beach most nights, and went up in the highlands on nice days. The girls gave up on trying to court them, and Harry eventually delivered their babies. They had Liam and Adaira and Niall and his wife Molly over for dinner every Sunday, and things were good. 

“Look,” Louis pointed, grinning as a sleek black head poked out of the sea on one of their walks. “It’s beautiful.”

Harry felt a smile come over him, the knowledge of  _ family, home, safe,  _ washing over him. Every now and then, one of them would pop up, as if they were checking on him. “His name is Zayn. He’s a friend.”

Louis looked at Harry curiously, a hesitant smile quirking up one corner of his mouth. “Zayn, is it?” He mused. “Interesting name.” 

“Aye. He’s a good lad.” Harry waved, and the seal dove back into the dark water with a splash. He popped back up once more, further out, as if making sure Harry was really ok with this stranger, but Harry waved again and then he was gone for real. 

Louis reached out and laced his fingers through Harry’s, and together they wandered home. 


End file.
